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B  A  B  ETT  E 
BOMBERLING'S 
BRIDEGROOMS 


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B  A  B  E  T  T  E 
BOMBERLING'S 
BRIDEGROOMS 

By 

AUCE  BEREND 

Translated  by  MARGARET  NOHOWEL 


BONI  AND  LIVERIGHT 
PUBLISHERS  -   NEW  YORK 


''y:vrfr- 


bae 


Babette  Bomberling's  Bridegrooms 

Copyrisfat,  1921  bjr 

BONI  and  LIVERIGHT.  INC. 


Pkinted  in  tke  United  Steles  at  Amerio* 


'"^'^ "  •  I  ■i^i'^.i'^T^^^fr'iiiUi 


B  A  B  ETT  E 
BOMBERLING'S 
BRIDEGROOMS 


trfT"^.'  T^^^T^  "•-".;■ 


•"?- ' :  -■'  i^r^;  r-'T'^j^-'  ■'r-^  7?- . '; — ■  7f^'F:F^'"twi^^^ 


|H»R»«^?S»^T¥8?^'"^  v;,-.  i^.j«T:  -.-•^5!:-:ri->i»s^^-"-^?^^KL^5B»*i.;r,-s™:ra'»^f';v;^ .r«?V.-  >-^'  -  ■■, "■    V-lfvK^^-':", 


BABETTE  BOMBERLING'S 
BRIDEGROOMS 

Life  is  not  so  easy  for  us  humans.  The 
dumbest  animal  fares  much  better. 

When  two  lasses  meet,  each  knows  he  has 
met  an  ass.  When  two  humans  come  face 
to  face,  it  is  long  until  they  can  decide  ex- 
actly whom  they  are  meeting.  They  can- 
not even  decide  whether  they  ought  to  shake 
hands. 

For  a  mere  name  means  Kttle. 

Only  by  his  profession  can  one  good  citi- 
zen recognize  lanother.  We  can  feel  the 
social  assurance  that  follows  positive  know- 
ledge only  after  we  have  discovered  friend 
neighbor's  economic  status. 

Innocently  to  believe  nothing  but  the  best 
of  our  fellow-beings  is  the  honorable  thing 
to  do.  It  is  even  a  duty.  Thereby,  however, 
we  often  emcounter  surprises.  And  sur- 
prises are  rarely  pleasant. 

None  of  us  is  delighted  when  our  attract- 
ive,  rotund   neighbor   at   the   play    (upon 

9 


»!"?••?'«'••  T    '-  ,>'^-.rV'.-7r-'.^T.Tr'^-'>->'  .■•■»-■•--■';••:.;'■•■-.;  .^•■-^■•'-•■T--"'      .■•■.  *=■;>''";.";  v.. "7    '  [V  ■■  ■»•  v«j.-^i jW'sjajlj.-  ' 


Bahette  Bomherling 


whom  we  had  mentally  conferred  respect- 
able retirement)  suddenly  introduces  him- 
self as  a  manufacturer  of  coffins,  wholesale 
and  retail.  Disenchanted,  we  now  gaze  upon 
the  elegance  of  his  opulent,  smiling  help- 
mate, who  is  the  livest  possible  evidence  of 
the  blossoming  of  his  business.  Even  though 
the  amiable  soul  had  not  confided  to  us  in 
the  intermission  that  his  income  increased 
from  year  to  year,  we  would  have  fathomed 
as  much. 

It  is  our  duty  to  hope  that  our  neighbors' 
honest  efforts  be  rewarded  with  the  most 
bountiful  harvest — indeed,  life  is  not  so 
easy  for  us  humans. 

No  one  was  better  informed  on  these  inti- 
mate matters  than  Mrs.  Anna  Bomherling, 
nee  Kolpe.  She,  who  had  been  the  better 
half  of  a  casket  maker  for  twenty-one  years, 
but  who  had  still  not  learned  to  love  her 
husband's  flourishing  business. 

Though  he  really  deserved  her  love. 

For  she  owed  to  him  a  mode  of  living 
which  far  surpassed  the  maiden  prayers 
which  she  once  had  evolved  in  her  father's 
smithy,  when  the  sparks  flared  and  the  rest- 

10 


a¥!w^'yf^W»gj>t|(?KS.?^'?'W^^^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


ive   steeds   of   the  village  teamsters   were 
equipped  with  new  shoes. 

Not  only  was  she  today  the  possessor  of 
a  genuine  rabbit  scarf,  like  the  town  clerk's 
young  wife  in  the  past,  but  she  warmed  her- 
self with  sable  and  chinchilla.  Not  only  had 
she  a  handsome  son;  her  Herman  was  even 
a  student  and  consorted  with  the  elite  ex- 
clusively. Not  only  had  she  a,  sweet  daugh- 
ter with  blond  curls  entwined  with  blue  rib- 
bons; her  Babette  was  even  so  delicate, 
graceful  and  decorous  that  old  Father 
Kolpe  would  most  certainly  have  ordered 
his  daughter  to  sweep  out  the  smithy  three 
times  before  so  lofty  a  lady  might  be  per- 
niiftted  to  cross  his  threshold. 

Anna  also  had  a  good,  affectionate  hus- 
band who  stayed  away  from  home  all  day; 
and  still  she  was  not  happy. 

And  then  experience  does  not  make  more 
palatable  the  sensation  of  noticing  con-stant- 
ly  that  every  acquaintance,  as  soon  as  he 
sets  eyes  on  you,  seems  to  be  reminded  of 
something  distasteful.  There  is  a  sickly 
feeling   when    strangers,   having    exhumed 

11 


'^^-fry^^f:^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


your  identity,  start  as  though  they  were 
lacerated  slightly  by  an  invisible  needle. 

And  the  worst  of  it  was  that  secretly 
Anna  did  not  blame  these  people.  Years 
bring  experience.  The  older  she  grew,  the 
better  she  understood  others. 

On  gray,  damp  days,  when  she  would  sit 
in  her  perfectly  warm,  comfortable  room, 
huddled  together,  fearing  that  gout  and  old 
age  were  coming  over  her,  her  husband 
would  come  home,  fresh  and  hilarious,  pinch 
her  cheek  and  say :  "Well,  old  girl,  business 
is  great!" 

And  on  the  way  home  from  a  subscrip- 
tion performance  of  one  of  those  classical 
dramas  in  which  tihe  curtain  falls  upon  a 
pile  of  corpses,  when  Bomherling,  happy 
that  the  thing  was  over,  would  grow  a  bit 
sentimental,  she  no  longer  would  giggle  as 
in  the  past,  but  would  give  him  a  withering 
look  for  his  lack  of  fine  feeling  and  say: 

"Let  me  alone.  You're  in  league  with 
the  dead!" 

Now,  this  was  not  quite  accurate.  For, 
in  spite  of  his  business,  August  Bomherling 

12 


»fT-"'W?'™'[ •■'^ -■  r-r^^  .  .'3;      -  "i'.v  -'^7-'^T'li''^-:'-^'<lj*^*'.:;f^]4,  -.  ■  _^s^^'^^^'.  ^' »-'  -r^-    jy- 


Babette  BomherUng 


had  not  as  yet  actually  seen  a  single  corpse. 
That  would  have  been  as  disagreeable  to 
him  as  it  is  to  every  other  human  being. 

Above  all,  there  was  nothing  morbid 
about  him.  On  the  contrary.  In  his  busi- 
ness he  was  conspicuous  not  only  for  his 
restless  energy,  but  for  the  joviality  which 
is  a  concomitant  of  self -righteousness  and 
the  regularity  of  all  the  functionings  of  the 
body. 

No  one  left  his  store  whom  Bomberling 
did  not  himself  accompany  to  the  door  and 
assure  with  a  bow: 

"It  was  indeed  a  pleasure;  let  me  have 
the  honor  to  serve  you  again." 

But,  unfortunately,  a  happy  married  ex- 
istence can  not  be  brought  about  by  these 
virtues  of  industry  and  business  honor. 

August  Bomberling  soon  noticed  that  at 
home  he  could  not  speak  of  the  business 
matters  which  lay  closest  to  his  heart  and 
still  keep  the  family  peace.  And,  more  than 
anything  else,  he  wanted  peace.  Therefore, 
he  learned  to  remain  diplomatically  silent. 
This  was  not  always  a  simple  matter  in  the 
first  years  of  his  marriage;  for  friend  wife 

13 


s'Tf^" 


-.■'"/>'      ■^'^.'      T      -i  •  ,     . .•      ryr^;^^--V^'A* 


Babette  BomherUng 


soon  began  to  dress  herself  more  in  keeping 
with  the  fashion  journals  from  Paris  than 
in  accord  with  the  state  of  Bomberling's 
books  of  account.  But  he  loved  his  wife, 
and  that  helped  some. 

Nothing  was  disagreeable  to  him. 

He  could  not  understand  what  there  was 
to  object  to  in  his  business,  which  was 
honest  and  necessary. 

He  had  come  by  it  in  the  most  natural 
way  in  the  world.  When  his  masterpiece 
as  a  carpenter  was  finished,  he  had  looked 
down  life's  perspective  for  the  wiay  that 
would  carry  him  forward  most  quickly.  He 
sat  on  the  sill  of  the  workshop  and  sought 
to  visualize  the  most  staple  article  of  his 
trade.  Was  there  not  something  that  every- 
one absolutely  required,  whether  he  would 
or  no? 

Many  sat  at  a  table.  A  wardrobe  is  sel- 
dom the  property  of  one  alone,  and  not 
everyone  owns  a  bed.  He  himself  had  had 
to  share  his  own  with  two  small  brothers. 

A  whistle  burst  from  his  lips — a  different 
kind  of  bed  had  flashed  before  him.  In  this 
case  there  was  no  sharing.     The  poorest 

14 


■^:L^ 


^4;i,;,-.Ji.|jlilJ|i!iMlJI!,VlJi-,yJJ!^i!^^^^^ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


dunce  got  one  for  himself  alone.  He 
thought  further.  The  longer  he  thought 
over  the  idea  the  more  advantages  occurred 
to  him. 

Here  was  an  article  that  could  not  be  ex- 
changed. No  bothersome  repairing.  No 
change  in  fashions.  No  smiling  exit  to 
"Think  it  over"  after  long  deliberation. 
There  was  no  use  wriggling,  you  had  to 
buy. 

The  tunes  he  whistled  became  more  gay, 
while  his  thoughts  danced.  Grinning,  he 
waved  to  slim,  blond  Anna  Kolpe  across 
the  way.  She  was  peeling  potatoes  in  the 
house  next  to  the  smithy. 

That  evening  he  went  to  the  blacksmith 
and  confided  his  plans  to  him.  He  wished 
to  start  a  coffin  factory  and  to  come  for 
Anna  when  the  business  was  going.  Would 
the  blacksmith  risk  a  couple  of  thousa.nd? 
Its  success  was  a  foregone  conclusion  and  he 
enimierated  the  advantages  of  his  practic- 
able article  on  his  fingers. 

First:  Everyone  must  have  one,  whether 
he  wants  one  or  not.  Secondly:  Exchange 
impossible.     Thirdly:     Repairs^here   the 

15 


Babette  Bomherling 


smith  interrupted  that  he  would  believe  him 
without  further  details.  He  thought  they 
had  no  such  need  in  the  village.  With  that 
he  glanced  over  his  shoulder,  as  one  who 
feels  a  presence  behind  him.  Such  a  thing 
was  for  the  cities.  He  should  surely  have 
Anna  if  he  succeeded.  But  for  the  thou- 
sands he  must  look  elsewhere.  Everything 
with  moderation. 

Bomherling  thanked  him,  happy  that  he 
should  have  Anna  if  he  made  good,  and 
rollicked  off  to  his  boss. 

When  he  heard  the  newfangled  idea  of 
his  pupil,  he  gave  him  the  few  thousand. 

These  young  carpenter- journeymen,  he 
decided,  would  be  best  disposed  of  in  the 
city  which  was  large  and  far  away.  He 
hked  no  competition. 

Many  horseshoes  had  been  molded  be- 
fore Bomherling  returned  home. 

Anna  saw  that  August's  moustache  was 
tliick  and  blond  and  his  eyes  blue  and  clear. 
She  said  to  herself  that  he  hved  in  the  city 
where  one  was  in  the  midst  of  hfe.  What 
did  she  care  about  his  stupid  business,  which 
was  only  for  the  dead. 

16 


?l5fBP|IPWllWlWfli'*.»'-7!'i^™^^'<^^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


The  wedding  came.  The  following  day 
they  rode  joyously  off  to  the  great  city,  the 
bridal-wreath  in  a  round  cake-box.  Their 
baggage  consisted  of  many  boxes  filled 
with  new  linen,  a  horseshoe  embroidered 
into  each  piece  for  good  luck.  The  little 
flat  was  four  flights  up,  and  slender  Anna 
was  proud  of  the  large  stretch  of  city  she 
could  see  from  her  window. 

Now  this  was  all  long  past.  With  every 
turn  of  the  dial  the  city  had  grown  and  the 
business  of  Bomberling's  factory  had  kept 
step.  Their  apartment  was  on  the  smartest 
floor  now,  and  they  had  become  a  part  of  the 
great  metropohs.  Even  from  a  distance 
their  clothes  as  well  as  their  taut  rotundity 
made  it  perceptible  that  they  were  people  of 
affairs. 

Anna  Bomberhng,  the  Madam  now,  had 
not  the  faintest  recollection  that  one  could 
expect  the  blessed,  golden  sun  to  dry  red 
flannel  drawers,  (washed  with  green  soap), 
upon  an  ordinary  garden  fence. 

^         4>         1^         ^£        ^^ 

Seeing  is  believing. 

17 


Bdbette  Bomherling 


And  in  the  home  the  Bomherlings  now 
occupied,  when  their  marriage  was  nearing 
the  quarter  century,  there  was  nothing  to 
remind  one  of  smithy  or  carpentershop. 

Even  the  old  family  portraits  had  dis- 
appeared, with  their  wide  black  frames  of 
cofiin-trimming  rests  from  the  factory. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  had  declared  that  she 
couldn't  stand  the  old  faces  any  longer  and 
as  usual  Bomherling  had  acquiesced.  It 
was  indifferent  to  him  what  hung  upon  the 
wall.  Only  the  large  crayon  drawings  of 
his  and  Anna's  parents  had  not  gone  to  the 
attic,  but  together  with  a  lot  of  flat-irons, 
decorated  the  laundry. 

The  decorator,  who  had  contracted  to  do 
over  the  living-room  in  the  height  of  taste, 
had  assured  them  that  most  of  his  patrons 
were  doing  this.  And  he  understood  his 
business.  He  justly  called  himself  "Spe- 
cialist in  Home-Culture". 

The  front  rooihs  of  BomberUng's  apart- 
ment had  become  an  example  of  modem 
art.  They  veritably  breathed  a  dignified 
exclusiveness  with  their  scent  of  the  pre- 

18 


r"  "■''pyxJ^S'-  ■'«'7>'  v 


Bahette  BomberUng 


vailing  fashionable  perfume  to  which  was 
always  discreetly  axlded  the  fragrant  gravy- 
smell  of  a  huge  roast. 

Already  in  the  hall  lay  a  handsome  Per- 
sian carpet  that  was  genuine.  Every  visitor 
to  whom  Mrs.  Bomberling  whispered  the 
price  of  this  piece  jumped  as  though  some- 
one had  stepped  on  his  little  toe. 

This  overwhelming  effect  proved  to  Mrs. 
Bomberling  that  repression  is  rewarded. 
For  she  had  not  wanted  the  Persian  carpet 
at  all.  She  did  not  want  to  spend  so  much 
for  an  old  rag  full  of  Turkish  vermin.  She 
had  thought  an  imitation  would  be  cheaper 
and  cleaner,  and  still  give  the  same  effect. 

But  the  "specialist  in  good  taste"  had  en- 
treated, and  thrown  up  his  hands — hands 
with  blood-blistered  finger-tips,  for  even  the 
most  clever  of  us  cannot  always  hit  a  nail 
on  the  head.  With  melancholy  in  his  small, 
inflamed  eyes,  he  had  declared  to  Madam 
that  she  ought  to  have  a  real  Oriental  rug 
in  the  hallway.  In  the  rear  and  in  the 
rooms  which  they  occupied  they  might  have 
have  as  many  imitations  as  they  wished. 
Noblesse  oblige. 

19 


Babette  Bomherling 


And  Mrs.  Bomberling  had  yielded;  for 
she  was  not  building  this  home  in  such 
grand  style  for  pleasure.  She  had  a  set 
purpose. 

Three  period-perfect  rooms  adjoined  the 
hall.  The  furniture  in  the  drawing-room 
was  from  an  old  English  castle.  A  Latin 
book,  bound  in  old  pigskin,  always  lay  open 
on  the  sill  of  the  wide  bay-window.  On  the 
wall  hung  an  old  English  engraving,  de- 
picting a  formal  garden  in  which  a  smiling 
young  man  was  slipping  an  engagement  ring 
upon  the  finger  of  a  smiling  girl  of  good 
family.  Mrs.  Bomberling  exchanged  a 
smile  with  this  picture  whenever  she  came 
through  this  pompous  room,  with  its  yellow 
silk  curtains  always  drawn. 

Otherwise  she  had  much  trouble  with  this 
fine  salon.  The  maids  could  not  under- 
stand that  the  Latin  book  must  lie  open  on 
the  beautifully  carved  sill.  They  slammed 
it  shut  every  time  they  dusted,  although 
they  had  been  with  the  most  distinguished 
families. 

The  drawing-room  led  into  a  tea-room. 
The  principal  attraction  of  that  was  the  tea- 

20 


-■••=* 


F^' 


Babette  Bomberling 


cup  collection  of  a  Russian  countess.  There 
was  a  czar,  or  at  least  a  grand  duke,  on 
every  delicately  enameled  shell. 

"If  I  only  knew  why  we  need  all  this  I" 
Bomberling  exclaimed,  when  they  led  him 
through  the  completed  splendor  of  his  home 
the  first  time.  Anna  did  not  answer.  She 
only  smiled  upon  the  engraved  pair  on  the 
wall. 

Past  the  glass-encased  cups,  and  between 
two  piUars  was  the  music  room.  This  was 
dominated  by  the  large  grand  piano  at 
which  Babette  practiced.  Looking  like  a 
huge  and  very  superior  candy  box,  upon  a 
piece  of  brocade,  rested  the  shiny  mahogany 
case  of  Herman's  violin. 

Babette  and  Herman  had  inherited  no 
musical  talents. 

Although  it  seemed  superfluous  to  Anna, 
Bomberling  still  confessed  quite  candidly  to 
everyone,  that  to  him  music  was  a  noise  like 
every  other.  Also  that  he  preferred  a  loco- 
motive whistle  to  a  violin  solo  because  it 
was  shorter. 

Anna,  however,  was  deeply  moved  by 
every  phonograph  record. 

21 


-^nrearr  .V -•--.  •  ■       ,-  .  .  ■.■....•■.  .      ■  ■    ■     "■'rr''--f. 


Babette  Bomherling 


Besides,  she  knew  that  music  is  fashion- 
able. Hence  Babette  played  the  piano  and 
Herman  fiddled. 

So  the  music-room  really  belonged  to  the 
part  of  the  house  used  by  the  family.  That 
was  evident  too  in  the  many  flowers  in  vases 
all  about;  for  Babette  loved  flowers  and 
bought  them  wherever  she  saw  them. 
Each  week  she  brought  new  favorite  blos- 
soms which  she  declared  the  most  lovely  in 
the  world,  worn  at  her  belt  and  ^on  her 
jacket,  and  arranged  in  all  the  family 
rooms.  Especially  in  her  own.  Here  the 
hands  of  the  decorating  artist  had  not  been 
permitted  to  disturb  the  many  flowers  midst 
the  ivory-enameled  furniture,  the  delicate 
curtains,  bright  mirrors  and  photographs  of 
famous  men. 

Nor  had  the  decorator  been  allowed  in  the 
adjoining  room.  Here  Herman  wished  to 
live  in  his  own'  disorder  of  books  and  papers, 
pipes,  ink-wells,  rapiers  and  a  galaxy  of 
heads  of  beautiful  women. 

With  a  long  pipe  dangling  from  his 
mouth  and  a  tiny  college-cap  on  his  thick, 
blond  mop,  he  had  filled  the  frame  of  his 

22 


Babette  Bomherling 


door  with  his  broad  shoulders  against  the 
approaching  specialist,  and  had  notified  him 
that  all  "speciahsts  in  good  taste"  were  pro- 
hibited. Here  the  coining  generation  was 
already  dominating. 

And  Babette  and  he  laughed  a  long 
and  merry  duet.  With  quick  strides  the 
cutaway  of  the  speciaHst  disappeared  at  the 
end  of  the  corridor.  His  shiny  back  mirrored 
smartly  controlled  rage. 

Strange  to  say,  with  a  deprecating  smile, 
Mrs.  Bomherling  had  also  begged  that  the 
redecorating  of  the  conjugal  bedroom  be 
left  to  her. 

Nothing  is  beautiful  of  itself,  only  custom 
and  usage  make  it  so. 

There  are  various  well-loved  comforts, 
which  we  will  not  sacrifice  to  modern  life; 
Anna  desired  one  room  in  which  she  might 
really  feel  at  home. 

The  decorating  artist  had  expounded  to 
her  in  vain  that  a  canopy  bed  was  absolutely 
grotesque  and  antiquated,  and  that  the  fat, 
gilded  angel  floating  over  their  beds  was 
utterly  inartistic  and  even  anatomically 
deficient. 

23 


hiibfiK.. 


Bahette  Bomherling 


Mrs.  Bomberling  remained  firm.  Even 
art  must  have  its  limits. 

August  had  carved  and  gilded  this  angel 
for  her  in  the  long  ago.     She  had  always 

thought  Herman  resembled  him  a  bit. 

^  #  #  #  4» 

The  pleasant  large  dining-room  lay  as  a 
friendly  intermediary  between  this  zone  of 
personal  atmosphere  and  that  of  silent,  cul- 
tivated splendor. 

This  room  saw  all  the  Bomberlings 
assembled  most  frequently.  Oak  furniture 
and  leather  chairs  made  it  comfortable.  The 
big  grandfather's  clock  ticked  firmly  and 
decidedly  in  the  corner.  In  the  window  a 
canary  hopped  in  his  cage.  Mrs.  Bomber- 
Hng  was  very  proud  that  Herman  had 
named  it  Napoleon. 

People  are  known  by  the  company  they 
keep. 

There  was  dignity  in  her  manner  when 
she  said  to  the  maid,  "Give  Napoleon  fresh 
seed." 

A  large  still  life  hung  on  the  wall.  A 
gorgeous  picture.  It  was  not  only  painted 
by  a  world  famous  artist,  but  represented 

24 


.T'-.T'^e  ■ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


Si  genuine  pate-de-fois-gras  de  Strasbourg 
surrounded  by  oysters,  red  lobsters,  bunches 
of  fresh  asparagus  and  a  bouquet  of  selected 
roses. 

The  art  decorator  had  kindly  called  Mrs. 
Bomberling's  attention  to  this  picture,  "to 
be  had  for  a  song  from  the  estate  of  a 
banker." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  had  really  thought  it 
very  expensive.  She  figured  that  the  artist 
must  have  painted  it  at  a  season  when  these 
delicacies  are  particularly  high.  But  she 
could  not  tear  herself  away  from  it.  So  it 
was  bought  and  hung  facing  the  dining- 
table.  There  it  was  surely  appropriate. 
For  art  should. be  an  inspiration. 

Bomberling  was  always  the  first  to  enter 
this  friendly  chamber,  after  the  breakfast 
table  was  set.  He  was  an  early  riser,  and 
each  morning  enjoyed  anew  the  coziness  of 
a  brief  hour  alone. 

First  he  would  go  to  the  window  and  look 
at  the  weather,  which  he  always  found  fair. 
Then  he  would  force  a  very  round  finger 
into  the  cage  and  beckon  Napoleon,  whom 
he  called  simply  "Dicky"  so  early  in  the 

25 


'  .-S" 


Bahette  Bomherling 


morning.  And  then  the  door  would  open, 
the  maid  with  fresh  cap  and  apron  would 
enter,  bidding  a  pleasant  good-moming  and 
set  the  bright  coflFee-pot  upon  the  n-eatly  set 
table. 

The  fragrance  of  coffee  radiates  comfort 
like  sunshine. 

Beaming,  Bomberhng  sat  down  and  fast- 
ened his  little  breakfast  napkin  in  his  collar, 
which,  like  a  white  ring,  seemed  to  wedge 
his  full  neck  to  his  double  chin.  Then  he 
took  up  his  knife  for  the  attack. 

Formerly,  when  the  children  were  small, 
he  had  often  captured  them  for  a  merry 
breakfast  party.  He  had  set  Babette  upon 
his  knee  and  stroked  her  fair,  silky  hair,  had 
laid  her  little  white  fingers  on  the  broad 
back  of  his  hairy  hand,  and  had  always 
marveled  anew  how  daintily  such  little 
maids  are  formed.  Or  he  had  put  fat  Her- 
man on  his  strong  back  and  had  run  around 
the  table.  This  they  had  called  their  merry- 
go-round. 

But  now  the  children  were  grown  up  and 
spoke  learnedly.  And  he  did  not  Uke  being 
embarrassed  when  he  ate. 

26 


Babette  BomberUng 


With  a  sure  hand,  Bomberling  grasped 
his  knife,  carved  a  flat  slice  off  the  sausage 
and  cut  open  his  buns.  Before  combining 
bread  and  sausage,  he  would  sip  his  strong 
coffee  with  audible  enjoyment.  Warming 
pleasantly,  the  hot  fluid  followed  its  dark 
course. 

Our  well  being,  however,  does  not  de- 
pend entirely  upon  our  own  exertions. 

Just  as  Bomberling  pleasantly  warmed 
within  and  without,  chewing  contentedly, 
was  studying  the  illustration  of  the  tomb  of 
a  late  millionaire  in  his  paper,  the  door  in 
back  of  him  opened,  and  wife  Anna  entered, 
in  a  pale  blue  morning  gown,  but  without 
the  greater  part  of  her  modern  head-dress. 
She  took  her  place  opposite  Bomberling 
and  attacked  her  breakfast,  with  a  remark- 
able lot  of  chatter  and  gossip.  Frequently 
she  cleared  her  throat  loudly  and  even 
tapped  her  spoon  against  the  cup  as  though 
she  were  about  to  deliver  an  official  address. 
But  Bomberling's  attention  remained  fixed 
on  miUionaires'  tombs  and  liversausage. 

Even  to  her  precisely  intoned,  "October 
is  upon  us,  my  dear  August  1"  he  did  not 

2T 


Babette  Bomherling 


turn  his  head,  but  riveted  to  his  paper,  said, 
between  mouthfuls  that  he  had  sent  the  rent 
from  his  office. 

We  neglect  to  take  note  of  the  obvious. 
The  pale  blue  shoulders  shrugged  disdain- 
fully, and  Anna  observed  that  she  had  not 
gotten  up  so  early  to  hear  that. 

Bomherling  hastily  laid  down  his  napkin 
and  lit  his  morning  cigar.  He  was  con- 
vinced that  Anna  would,  as  usual  when 
they  were  alone  for  a  moment,  relate  with 
relentless  exactitude  all  she  had  had  to  en- 
dure all  these  years  as  the  wife  of  a  coffin 
manufacturer,  and  that  she  would  not  rest 
until  she  had  helped  her  children  into  a 
higher  social  sphere. 

Therefore  he  hurriedly  brushed  the 
crumbs  off  the  round  hill  of  his  vest,  across 
which  his  heavy  gold  watch-chain  meandered, 
saying  "My  dear  old  thing,  I  must  un- 
fortunately leave  immediately.  If  you  have 
anything  more  to  tell  me,  'phone.  You 
know,  8182." 

He  pinched  Anna's  right  cheek,  as  was 
his  habit,  and  hastened  to  escape  from  the 
room. 

28 


li|^i^.wiii|'>'.  if^v  TyTTv'r^-osTisflr^;"  j^"^?r^ '     j'^-fp-  .!.->  i.    *  v  ^' ?^7!v77.  i^^^'KtP^' •^'T*'?^ 


Babette  BomherUng 


But  a  married  man  is  rarely  his  own 
master. 

"I  must  speak  with  you,"  Anna  said 
quietly  and  firmly. 

Anna  conmienced.  But  she  did  not  tarry 
long  upon  the  tortures  she  had  endured 
through  Bomberling's  profession.  She 
spoke  of  Babette.  With  an  anxious  tone 
she  reminded  her  husband  that  the  child 
would  be  seventeen  this  October,  and  before 
Bomberling  had  been  able  to  declare  him- 
self ready  to  make  any  gift,  she  had  told 
him  earnestly  that  many  girls  of  good 
family  are  engaged  at  this  age.  Here  she 
gasped  for  breath  and  Bomberhng  inter- 
polated that  a  girl  must  wait  until  the  right 
man  comes  along. 

With  this  he  had  again  timied  to  go,  for 
he  did  not  know  that  the  conversation  was 
just  beginning. 

Without  having  taken  note  of  his  words, 
Anna  spoke  on  and  on,  without  stopping 
or  faltering.  She  told  Bomberling  that 
parents  must  care  for  the  happiness  and 
futm-e  of  their  daughters.     That  in  better 

29 


'^.:'-'/7tJ3^,j!C 


Babette  Bomherling 


circles  this  was  considered  one  of  the  first 
duties  of  human  nature. 

Napoleon  warbled  gaily  in  his  cage,  and 
Anna  interrupted  herself,  screaming,  "Shut 
up.  Napoleon  I" 

But  the  conjugal  conversation  became 
more  violent.  Occasionally  Anna  lost  her 
breath,  ajid  Bomherling  got  a  chance;  to 
answer  back. 

Until  finally  Anna  burst  out  with  the 
name  and  income  of  a  noted  attorney. 

After  a  sudden  silence,  BomberUng  quiet 
and  abashed,  asked  "Does  she  love  him?" 

"Why,  she  does  not  know  him  yet,"  said 
Anna,  now  truly  upset  and  out  of  patience 
with  her  husband's  dullness. 

She  poured  eau-de-cologne  on  her  hand- 
kerchief and  touched  her  forehead  with  it, 
breathing  audibly. 

This  turn  to  the  conversation  was  not 
foreign  to  Bomherling.  He  sighed  with  re- 
lief, relit  his  cigar,  which  had  gone  out  dur- 
ing the  heated  conversation,  and  paced  the 
carpet.    Then  a  bell  sounded. 

For  city  people  the  door-bell  is  the  voice 
of  Fate.     It  evidently  was  coming  to  the 

30 


Bahette  Bomherling 


rescue  of  Bomberling.  Mrs.  Bomberling 
twitched,  picked  up  her  belongings  without 
hesitation  and  disappeared. 

Bomberling  was  not  a  man  to  lose  a  mo- 
ment. In  the  next  instant  he  had  gone 
through  the  other  door. 

In  the  corridor  he  found  his  nephew  Paul, 
vainly  trying  to  remove  his  hat,  his  arms  full 
of  flowers. 

Bomberling  pulled  out  his  watch. 

"Is  it  not  past  oflice  time,  my  boy?"  he 
asked. 

Paul  assented,  but  on  the  way  to  the  fac- 
tory he  had  seen  these  flowers  in  a  shop. 
Only  yesterday  Babette  had  bemoaned  that 
no  more  lilies-of-the-valley  were  to  be 
found,  so  he  had  wanted  to  bring  her  these 
quickly. 

"Well,  do  it,  and  then  come  after  me," 
said  Bomberling. 

With  that  the  door  fell  shut  after  him. 
He  was  not  going  to  risk  his  freedom  again. 

While  a  taxi  was  carrying  him  swiftly 
and  cleverly  through  the  intricate  mazes  of 
streets  and  squares,  where  the  fresh  day's 

81 


Bahette  BomherUng 


work  was  stirring  and  rushing  forward,  the 
old  man  pondered  on  the  happy  solution  of 
all,  if  only  Babette  and  Paul  would  unite. 

The  very  year  of  Babette's  birth,  ten- 
year  old  Paul  had  come  to  him  as  the  only 
heritage  of  the  estate  of  an  uncle,  whom  all 
the  family  had  always  looked  upon  as 
wealthy. 

But  testaments  harbor  more  wondrous 
things  than  do  other  secrets.  When  the 
uncle  died,  he  left  his  sorrowing  relatives 
nothing  but  the  boy.  The  others  firmly  de- 
clined this  inheritance.  Good  August 
accepted.  All  smiled  at  this  foolishness,  for 
his  business  was  small  then,  and  he  should 
have  had  enough  to  do  caring  for  his  own 
children. 

But  our  pieces  of  foolishness  are  often  the 
most  brilliant  strokes  of  our  lives.  Since 
some  time  "now  Paul  had  been  his  only 
confidential  man  in  the  management  of  the 
large  mill,  which  was  growing  ceaselessly, 
and  ever  making  further  demands  on  their 
thought  and  ingenuity. 

"For  the  best  laid  plans "     He  had 

thought,  that  that  which  was  not  modem, 

32 


.   'S^'---;-*"^-    '. 


i^-*"Y,\'"'- 


Babette  BomherUng 


could  never  become  unmodem.  That  had 
been  a  mistake.  Periods  had  been  discov- 
ered. Now  everything  must  be  of  a  stated 
period.  You  must  be  very  fastidious.  Cer- 
tain lines  in  the  carving  of  the  wood. 
Artistically  hammered  armature  and  trim- 
mings of  wrought  iron.,  Cremation  was  be- 
coming more  modem  and  popular.  One 
had  to  oflPer  tastefuUy  decorated  urns. 

When  Paul  showed  a  talent  for  drawing, 
Bomberhng  had  sent  him  to  an  art  school. 

He  was  now  his  best  designer  and  direct- 
ed the  carving  studios  of  the  factory.  And 
that  was  excellent.  For  Bomberling,  who 
could  reckon  figures  like  a  Secretary  of  Fi- 
nance, was  as  deficient  in  art  as  in  music. 
He  could  not  see  why  a  curlicue  should  be 
prettier  to  the  right  than  to  the  left.  People 
did  choose  the  most  ridiculous  ways  of  com- 
plicating their  lives. 

He  frowned.  He  threw  the  cigar  butt 
angrily  out  of  the  taxi  window.  In  a  metrop- 
olis there  is  a  use  for  everything.  A  mes- 
senger boy  had  caught  it  up  and  put  it  in 
his  mouth.  B.omberling  had  to  laugh. 
Wholesome  folks  do  not  let  the  unpleasant 

33 


Bahette  BomherUng 


depress  them.  When  the  motor  drew  up  to 
the  curb,  Bomberling  was  more  comfort- 
able, and  when  he  found  a  series  of  samples 
of  the  loveliest  ebony  on  his  desk,  he  had 
recovered  his  usual  good  humor. 

In  the  meantime  Paul  waited  for  Ba- 
bette. 

As  he  was  a  close  relative  of  the  family, 
the  maid  had  led  him  into  the  dining-room, 
and  not  into  the  "region  of  culture."  Here 
there  was  no  one.  Only  Napoleon  trilling 
his  morning  song.  The  loud  duet  of  the 
domestic  squabble  had  excited  and  aroused 
him  to  unusual  efforts. 

Paul  looked  earnestly  at  the  Uttle  ball  of 
yellow  feathers  that  was  puffing  itself  out 
at  his  approach,  and  thought:  "You  lucky, 
lucky  birdl    You  see  her  every  day." 

No  one  came.  Paul  went  to  the  side- 
board to  catch  his  reflection  in  the  upright 
silver  platter.  He  did  not  recollect  what 
sort  of  necktie  he  had  put  on  that  morning. 
When  he  had  left  his  rooms  he  had  not 
dreamt  that  he  would  see  Babette  that  day. 
But    the    silly    platter    belittled    him    ri- 

t4 


'^5w?«'ri'\'*^''v.*v'  ■      ■-'  '•  ■■  ?^* -'^i • '.     ;••  "- .  "■■.   ff;  7  ,?'^^-'Tf'«>r7«*^^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


diculously,  and  his  scarf  was  only  an  indis- 
tinguishable blur. 

While  Paul  was  trying  to  see  himself  in 
the  window  pane,  he  was  disturbed.  Babette 
had  entered.  Her  blond  hair  curved 
smoothly  over  hier  small  head  and  glistened 
in  two  big  puffs  over  her  ears.  A  black- 
velvet  frock  simply  cut  and  open  at  the 
neck,  enhanced  her  young  beauty. 

Babette  had  dressed  with  particular  care 
this  morning,  she  had  great  plans  for  the 
day. 

Smiling  she  asked  Paul  what  had  brought 
him  at  such  an  unearthly  hour;  then  she 
spied  the  flowers  and  rushed  past  him  to 
the  table. 

"How  lovely!  I've  been  dreaming  of 
lilies-of-the-valley  all  night." 

Grasping  a  bunch  of  the  white  blossoms 
and  bright  green  leaves  she  hurried  towards 
her  room. 

At  the  door  she  reflected.  Beaming  on 
Paul,  she  said  that  he  must  really  not 
think  of  waiting  till  her  return,  for  she 
knew  he  must  go  to  the  mill.  And  then  dis- 
appeared with  a  friendly  nod. 

35 


]■  *• 


Bahette  Bomherling 


Paul  went  out  slowly.  He  might  have 
put  his  hat  on  much  more  quickly,  because 
his  arms  were  empty  now. 

«  *  «  «  « 

When  Babette  returned,  she  poured  her- 
self a  little  coffee  and  bit  into  a  brown  bun, 
standing.  Munching,  she  wandered  back 
and  forth,  arranging  her  flowers. 

She  had  never  had  the  patience  to  sit 
down  formally  for  a  meal  in  the  morning, 
and  especially  not  today. 

She  decided  to  call  on  the  famous  actor, 
who  as  Komeo  and  Hamlet,  as  Don  Carlos 
and  Faust,  hung  over  her  dresser  and  all 
around  her  mirror.  She  wanted  to  ask  him 
for  his  autograph.  Did  he  care  for  blondes? 
She  had  heard  that  he  was  a  Southerner. 
During  her  ItaUan  lessons  she  had  to  think 
of  him  continually.     lo  famo — I  love  you. 

Caught  red-handed,  she  was  startled. 
Herman  had  entered  the  room  and  slumped 
into  his  chair. 

"Father  among  his  coffins  already?"  he 
asked,  and  yawned. 

Babette  came  back  inquiring  whether  his 

86 


Bahette  BomherUng 


early  rising  meant  that  he  was  possibly 
going  to  college? 

"Nonsense.  Hockey,"  grumbled  Herman, 
yawning  again,  and  rang  for  warm  water. 

Babette  gathered  the  remaining  flowers, 
nodded  cordially  to  her  brother  and  skipped 
out.  She  had  to  go  to  her  lesson  with  Miss 
Grisham.  Before  leaving  the  apartment  she 
looked  for  her  mother. 

Distrust  is  a  housewife's  virtue.  Mrs. 
Bomberling  sat  in  the  kitchen  and  observed 
the  cooking  of  the  quince  jam  through  her 
lorgnette. 

Babette  gave  her  a  hearty  kiss  and 
thought  tenderly:  "How  proud  the  dear 
soul  would  be  if  she  were  the  mother-in-law 
of  the  most  famous  actor  I" 

The  mother  caressed  the  daughter's  soft 
cheek,  and  thought,  "My  little  lamb,  the 
wife  of  the  attorney-general." 

Hope  has  its  various  aspects 

A  pictiu'e  of  her  Romeo  between  her 
books  and  music,  Babette  soon  entered  Miss 
Grisham's  class  room  with  a  merry  "Good 
morning"  and  a  hurried  glance  of  under- 

87 


'■fl^S^J^WT-T-.-  «  .    •r-  '  •:     T— -  ■■■■"'^.-r';*:  •■^■™'r-t-~v-  '•.-»- ,  -■'-r«-..,"i-     •  v-.  7^r.-;r-  -'lfi--..•.-^;,■TJ5l;;•;,-f,.^^(^j^!^W^Jrr^y»•■^^ 


■,y"Y^  ■;""';  ji^'^vre'?^ 


Babette  BomberUng 


standing  with  her  dearest  chum  Hilda 
Wagner.    Well  then,  today  at  last  I 

Then  lessons  commenced.  Even  girls 
must  he  fitted  out  for  their  campaigns.  Miss 
Grisham  taught  young  ladies  the  language, 
history  and  art  of  Italy,  that  they  might 
enjoy  their  honeymoon.  The  girls  giggled 
a  great  deal.  They  laughed  at  the  simplest 
phrases. 

"Waiter,  can  this  room  be  locked?"  was 
to  be  translated,  but  only  the  squeaks  of 
suppressed  laughter  could  be  heard. 

Angrily  Miss  Grisham  looked  into  the 
blue  eyes  and  smooth  faces  and  nervously 
turned  to  the  next  grammar  lesson.  With 
her  shrill  old-maid's  treble,  she  now  cried: 

"You  need  not  waken  us  in  the  morning." 

This  did  not  seem  suitable  either.  The 
squeaks  and  giggles  started  again. 

But  even  the  longest  hour  has  not  more 
than  sixty  minutes.  A  bell  signaled  at  last. 
The  books  slammed  shut. 

This  was  the  only  moment  in  the  day  that 
Miss  Grisham  smiled. 

Arm  in  arm  Babette  and  Hilda  went 
through   the   streets.     They   were   friends 

88 


;vYvr'-=iTv^'''=w.  ■•-:,• 


Babette  Bomherling 


J 


since  they  had  met  at  Miss  Grisham's.  The 
fundamentals  of  all  friendship  united  them. 
They  were  mutually  envious  and  they  pitied 
one  another. 

Babette  admired  Hilda  because  her 
father  held  a  high  government  post,  and  her 
brother  was  an  officer,  and  she  was  sorry  for 
her  twenty-two  years  and  utter  lack  of 
beauty.  Hilda  pitied  Babette  because  her 
father  had  that  horrible  and  uncanny  fac- 
tory, and  because  she  was  not  of  good 
family.  But  she  envied  her  blond  hair, 
which  made  people  turn  on  the  street,  and 
perhaps  even  more — her  bright  and  cozy 
room. 

Ever  since  Hilda  could  remember,  the 
apartment  of  her  parents  had  been  shrinking. 
Only  the  reception  rooms  had  continued. 

Hilda  slept  on  a  folding  couch  in  the 
dining-room,  and  her  meager  possessions, 
ribbons,  veils,  lace  collars  and  postcards 
were  secreted  in  a  drawer  in  the  bathroom, 
that  served  as  her  dressing-room.  She 
hadn't  a  spot  she  could  call  her  own. 

For  this  reason  she  secretly  longed  to 
marry.  • 

39 


■  /*.'..-   'I'^tfr-t  If,. 


Babette  BomherUng 


Babette  and  Hilda  were  talking  excited- 
ly about  the  wonderful  actor,  to  whose 
apartment  they  were  now  going.  They 
stopped  at  every  bill-board  to  read  his  name 
on  the  theater  posters.  Babette  felt  that 
his  fame  concerned  her.  In  a  few  moments 
she  would  be  in  his  presence. 

Hilda  was  to  wait  outside.  She  offered 
to  accompany  her,  but  Babette  would  not 
accept  this  proof  of  friendship.  With  the 
dainty  nod  she  always  had  when  she  had 
no  further  use  for  one,  she  disappeared  into 
the  house. 

A  servant,  with  a  dirty  fat  baby  on  her 
arm,  opened  and  led  her  into  a  room  littered 
with  books  and  pictures. 

Here  our  Babette  waited  very  nervously. 

How  would  his  voice  sound  when  he  bade 
welcome?  Could  he  speak  in  any  form  but 
verse? 

But  even  the  gods  are  human  at  home. 

In  the  adjoining  room  plates  clattered, 
and  someon-e  said  unpleasantly: 

"Can't  you  teach  that  beast  of  a  cook  to 
fry  onions  brown?" 

Babette  winced.     That  was  undoubtedly 

40 


Bdbette  Bomherling 


his  voice.  She  still  had  it  ringmg  in  her 
memory:  "Oh,  my  queen,  how  wondrous 
fair  is  life!" 

Now  a  chair  ^craped  in  the  adjoining 
room.     Steps  approached  the  middle  door. 

Without  reflecting,  Babette  dashed  out 
of  the  room.  Quicker  than  a  weasel  she  had 
disappeared  from  the  strange  flat. 

To  Hilda's  many  questions  she  only  re- 
plied that  one  could  not  speak  of  such  an 
adventure. 

Hilda  stared  at  her  blond  friend  with 
fervent  and  warm  admiration.  They  part- 
ed in  solemn  silence. 

However,  on  reaching  home  Babette  tore 
every  last  photograph  of  this  man  off  her 
walls  and  threw  them  into  a  black  box.  She 
was  furious  that  tears  should  roll  down 
her  cheeks  the  while. 

What  did  a  person  who  ate  onions  con- 
cern her? 

Babette's  mother  had  also  made  use  of 
the  time. 

After  the  quince  marmalade  had  been 
filled  into  the  jars,  and  these  counted  over 

41 


'i<*PW,l.':  .        ■    ■        ..-.  .1    T--       -r  ■-.-•.  .      -,.       -,■■..■:••    --^■--     .     /^t;       .     ri-     ■•.  •    T-- r"' ^Vl; 


Babette  Bomberling 


three  times,  Madam  Amia  disappeared  in 
her  bedroom  for  an  hour. 

Time  changeth  all  things. 

When  she  reappeared  she  had  become  a 
perceptibly  slimmer,  elegant  lady,  with  a 
wealth  of  curls  beneath  her  hat  and  veil. 
Like  Spring,  she  was  preceded  and  followed 
by  the  fragrance  of  flowers.  With  awe, 
the  maid  laid  the  fur  cape  about  the  wide 
shoulders,  passed  her  the  huge  muff  with  its 
bouquet  of  artificial  violets,  and,  politely 
opening  the  door,  rang  for  the  elevator. 

Slowly  Mrs.  BomberUng  was  lowered  to 
the  ground. 

She  intended  to  visit  her  friend,  the 
widow,  a  refined  and  charming  lady.  Her 
husband  had  been  a  great  scientist.  An 
entire  family  of  bugs  had  been  named  after 
him.  Besides  by  a  happy  coincidence,  this 
lady  was  the  aunt  of  the  aforementioned 
noted  attorney. 

In  spite  of  her  honorable  connection  with 
the  newly  discovered  race  of  bugs,  the 
widow  was  in  rather  meager  circumstances. 
She  had  to  get  on  without  a  maid,  and  had 
only  the  coarsest  housework  done  by  the 

4a 


r'  '    '■    ■        '-■-'■.'■  ■-■-'•■..  .         ■         ".  ■       " 


Babette  Bomherling 


janitor's  wife.  The  rest  she  did  herself  in 
kid  gloves,  a  boudoir  cap  over  her  hair. 

But  even  when  handled  with  kid  gloves, 
daily  house  work  is  coarse. 

The  janitor's  wife  did  not  show  proper 
respect,  and  sneered  when  she  was  Jtold  to 
carry  away  the  scant  garbage.  For  this 
reason,  the  lady  had  asked  her  friend,  Mrs. 
Bomherling,  to  bring  her  a  few  champagne 
corks,  which  she  would  occasionally  toss  into 
the  waste-basket  or  garbage  pail. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  had  gladly  assented,  al- 
though when  the  Bomberlings  were  alone, 
their  meals  consisted  of  no  exaggerated 
luxuries. 

But  we  must  show  ourselves  worthy  of 
the  high  opinion  of  our  friends. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  went  to  a  wineshop, 
ordered  several  bottles  of  a  light  red  wine 
and  asked  the  clerk  for  some  champagne 
corks. 

"Of  the  best  French  brands,  of  course.'* 

Her  friend  received  her  with  great  ela- 
tion, for  she  was  delighted  to  have  someone 
to  whom  she  could  pour  out  her  heart.  The 
janitor's  wife  had  smashed  a  small  plaster 

43 


Babette  BomberUng 


bust  of  Schiller.  Instead  of  asking  pardon, 
the  creatiu-e  had  declared  that  Schiller  was 
not  modern  anyway. 

"What  do  you  say  to  that?"  she  asked 
trembhng  with  rage. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  blushed.  This  «ras 
beyond  her  sphere,  but  she  fancied  that  the 
play  "Don  Carlos,''  which  she  had  recently 
seen  with  Babette,  had  been  made  by  this 
broken  Schiller. 

"There  can  be  various  opinions  on  that," 
she  said  hesitatingly. 

"Most  assuredly,"  her  friend  hastened  to 
say,  "But  that  such  a  person  should  dare  to 
express  a  literary  judgment  to  me.  A  slight 
difference  of  caste  still  exists." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  handed  over  her 
package  of  corks,  and  called  attention  to 
their  all  being  of  )the  best  brands.  She 
might  have  more  at  any  time.  The  other 
thanked  her  kindly  and  assured  her  that 
these  would  do  for  a  long  time.  A  cork 
every  Sunday  would  be  plenty.  One  must 
not  be  wasteful. 

Now  it  was  Anna's  turn  to  talk.  She  re- 
ported how  industriously  her  children  were 

44 


■  -r^M'^it 


■*^v-S'''v^^*V^^-'''    ':.■.'-"   ■■  -     -    '■;    ■■    .       ■  ./^.■VT  VV/^T*tJPS-^-:r.-?M»^"7^;^ 


Bahette  Bomberling 


pursuing  their  courses,  Babette  in  her 
Italian  classes  and  Herman  at  college. 
Then  she  inquired  politely  whether  the 
widow's  nephew  had  arrived,  for  the  clever 
state  attorney  was  just  being  transferred 
to  the  metropoUs. 

The  old  lady  nodded  pleasantly.  Yester- 
day the  dear  boy  had  called  on  her.  She  had 
promptly  told  him  of.  her  dear  friend  and 
her  relations. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  asked,  cautiously,  what 
the  age  of  the  good  boy  might  be. 

The  auntie  wrinkled  her  narrow  fore- 
head, and  said  after  some  reflection,  that 
her  poor  old  head  was  not  good  at  dates. 
He  had  probably  just  entered  on  the  forties. 
Perhaps  he  was  already  forty-five.  Possibly 
even  forty-eight.  Everything  is  ,  possible. 
But,  however  that  might  be,  in  comparison 
to  his  splendid  advancement,  he  was  still  ex- 
ceedingly young. 

And  so  they  talked  over  the  various 
things  that  a  mother  and  an  aunt  have  to 
discuss.  When  Mrs.  Bomberling  was  about 
to  go  she  invited  her  dear  friend  to  dinner 
the  night  of  Babette's  seventeenth  birthday. 

45 


^5i'^r'^^»'^"*r'T^*^  T^^^^       ^=^^^v"*      T^*^ 


:t  ^'  ^:  •-'..Tr."r-~  ry^'^  ~rfn^~ 


Babette  Bomberling 


In  case  the  illustrious  nephew  would  accom- 
pany her,  he  would  be  very  welcome. 

The  good  widow  promised  to  extend  the 
invitation.  She  believed  that  she  might 
accept  for  him  today. 

They  parted  with  the  smiles  of  true 
friendship. 

When  Mrs.  Bomberling  stepped  on  the 
street  the  red  autumn  sun  was  reflected  in 
the  windows  of  the  pheap  attic  flats.  Hence 
it  was  setting.  A  few  moments  more  and 
it  would  be  the  Bomberlings'  dinner  hour, 
but  tardiness  had  always  been  Anna's  spe- 
cial privilege.  She  decided  to  walk.  A  bit 
of  exercise  would  do  her  good. 

At  the  next  corner  she  saw  a  truck  from 
which  they  were  selling  ridiculously  cheap 
cauUflower. 

Anna  stopped  and  approached  the  wagon 
about  which  women  and  girls  were  pushing 
and  puffing.  She  was  continually  forget- 
ting that  five  cents  more  or  less  did  not 
matter  at  BomberUngs'.  She  successfully 
secured  four  large  firm  heads  and  finally 
even  got  five  cents  more  off  the  low  price. 
Thoroughly  elated  she  went  on. 

46 


W''?i'i''f^'TT''rT'T^^^vTT^f^ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


But  possession  is  burdensome.  At  every 
step  the  paxjkage  became  heavier.  The  old 
newspaper  wrapping  burst  and  the  chubby 
heads  started  flirting  with  every  passer-by. 
Everyone  seemed  to  smile  at  this  imper- 
tinent vegetable  that  crowded  against  the 
costly  furs.  With  every  step  Anna  feared 
the  big  heads  would  roll  away  from  her. 
She  flushed  with  terror  and  embarrassment. 
At  last  her  resistance  was  broken.  She 
hailed  a  taxi. 

In  a  few  moments  she  was  at  home.  Bom- 
berhng  was  already  there.  He  was  pacing 
back  and  forth  in  the  dining-room,  where 
the  curtains  were  drawn  and  the  light  shone 
agreeably  upon  the  set  table. 

"I'm  terribly  hungry,"  he  called  cheer- 
fully when  he  heard  Anna  coming. 
Soon  they  all  sat  about  the  table. 

Bomberhng  did  not  delay  with  chatter, 
but  began  to  eat  hastily. 

The  cauliflower  had  thoroughly  spoilt 
Anna's  appetite. 

Herman,  who  had  just  been  at  an  ex- 
tensive cocktail  party,  was  separated  from 

47 


';rs<r- 


Bahette  Bomherling 


his  family  by  a  thick  fog.  Veils  floated  be- 
fore his  eyes. 

"I  have  invited  my  dear  friend  to  dinner 
on  Babette's  birthday.  Her  nephew,  Mr. 
Kobertson,  will  probably  accompany  her. 
He  is  said  to  be  a  very  charming  man." 

Babette  frowned.  She  had  ceased  look- 
ing forward  to  her  birthday. 

As  soon  as  dinner  was  over  she  went  to 
her  piano  and  played  one  funeral  march 

after  another  in  the  pitch-dark  room. 

#  «  #  «  « 

The  days  that  preceded  Babette's  birthday 
consisted  of  a  monotony  of  breakfasts, 
Imiches  and  suppers. 

But  Babette  had  become  more  cheerful. 
The  memory  of  Romeo's  onions  had  faded 
a  bit  for  Hilda's  brother  the  lieutenant  was 
home  on  leave  and  called  for  the  two  friends 
every  afternoon  after, classes.  „ 

Babette  found  that  a  uniform  makes  a 
street  more  picturesque. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  was  entirely  and  untir- 
ingly occupied  these  days. 

Early  and  late  she  was  buying  and  giving 
orders.     She  shirked  no  bother.    The  din- 


48 


•^y "■• ''^.  V!A?^*^T^     .' ?  '*  ^ i^^X^-i^f^f  i-^^^T'^-^^;     ''_•  '..■■'   >', 


Babette  BomberUng 


ner  should  be  excellent  and  plentiful.  Bom- 
berling's  guests  should  be  satisfied. 

One  afternoon  they  found  a  card  on  re- 
turning home:  Gustavius  Kobertson,  confi- 
dential attorney. 

Success  spurs  us  on.  Anna  now  slept 
with  the  cook-book  on  her  night  table. 

And  finally  the  evening  arrived. 

The  entire  artistic  region  was  brilliantly 
lit.  From  ceiling,  walls  and  tables  electric 
lights  glowed.  The  etching  with  the  ridic- 
ulously smiling  pair  was  hke  a  mirror;  glis- 
tening, it  reflected  the  many  lights.  Tht 
czars  and  grand  dukes  in  the  cupboard 
shone  in  their  full  regalia  and  decorations. 

In  the  dining-room  was  the  beautifully 
set  table. 

Babette  had  strewn  it  cleverly  with 
fragrant  violets.  Since  this  morning  this 
little  flower  was  her  favorite.  She  wore  a 
bimch  of  them  at  the  belt  of  her  white  dress. 
Mrs.  BomberHng  had  asked  from  whom  she 
had  received  so  many  violets.  Babette 
seemed  not  to  remember.  Possibly  they 
were  from  Hilda's  brother  the  lieutenant, 
she  had  answered. 


49 


.^  -"f^i-Ti^-TiWHWWsf^' 


Babette  Bomherling 


About  her  neck  Babette  wore  the  finely 
wrought  necklace  that  her  father  had  given 
her  that  morning. 

Bomherling  had  bought  it  himself. 

He  had  stopped  his  motor  at  an  elegant 
jeweler's  and  asked  the  smart  man  in  dress 
clothes  behind  the  counter  to  show  him 
"something  for  the  very  pretty  neck  of  a 
young  lady." 

He  had  been  advised  politely  to  take  this 
very  fine  necklace.  From  it  was  suspended 
a  single  pearl,  like  a  dew  drop. 

In  his  ofiice  Bomherling  had  unwrapped 
it  again.  At  his  desk,  where  black  and 
brown  moldings  were  piled  high,  and, 
where  the  sketches  for  coffins  and  grave- 
stones left  httle  room,  the  old  man  sat  and 
slid  the  delicate  chain  over  his  round  fingers. 
When  he  had  bedded  it  again  in  the  fine 
leather  case,  a  thoughtful  and  satisfied  smile 
was  on  his  face. 

Babette  was  happy  with  her  pearl. 

When  her  father  came  home  she  rushed 
to  embrace  him  and  said,  "I  must  continu- 
ally think  that  it  lay  hidden  in  a  shell  at  the 

50 


^'^!'^'IBTV^'^!EW9!T?p?^',vr=«i^?^7T^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


bottom  of  the  sea."  And  then  she  dashed 
to  the  piano  and  played  a  wild  dance. 

Bomberling  stogd  dazed  and  proud  be- 
fore the  glittering  table.  He  admired 
Anna  intensely.  Where  had  she  learnt  to 
do  all  this? 

He  did  not  know  that  in  every  woman 
there  is  a  bit  of  a  princess.  At  sixteen  Anna 
had  seen  this  table  already.  In  the  sparks 
that  flew  from  the  anvU. 

But  where  was  Anna?  In  vain  Bomber- 
ling had  sought  her  in  the  artistic  region. 
Finally  he  found  her  in  the  laundry  where 
the  crayons  of  both  their  parents  stared 
down  upon  rows  of  wine-bottles  and  deco- 
rated platters. 

Here  stood  Mrs.  Bomberling  with  Mr. 
Schutte.  Mr.  Schutte  was  the  hired  butler.. 
The  widow  had  recommended  him  to  her 
friend.  He  was  a  jewel.  Where  he  served 
nothing  was  left  to  be  desired.  He  was 
wholly  ejffident. 

He  had  arrived  that  minute.  He  was 
asking  for  any  special  wishes  Madam  might 
have.  Anna  spoke  excitedly  at  his  im- 
mobilcj  masklike  face,  that  was  so  smooth 

51 


■"^T^,^^  •   ■  ■■,.■       ■■_■■;        ■■-■■■  •  ■-  •       ■■';^'' '.' :,f.';5snw^ 


Bahette  Bomberling 


and  only  twitched  painfully  when  Madam 
pronounced  the  French  name  of  a  dish. 

Anna  was  rather  relieved  when  Mr. 
Schutte  interrupted  with  a  polite  wave  of 
his  hand  that  he  was  sufficiently  instructed. 
He  bowed  and  went  to  get  his  white  gloves 
out  of  his  overcoat,  which  he  had  hung 
modestly  behind  the  pantry  door.  He  had 
to  hunt  a  whUe  and  glanced  back  nervously 
at  Anna,  who  was  still  there  without  any 
apparent  reason.  The  pockets  of  this  coat 
were  deep.  The  lining  of  the  coat  was 
worthy  its  name  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 
Sewed  to  the  coat  only  along  the  outer  edge, 
it  had  held  many  a  partridge,  pa^ty  and  bot- 
tle of  wine,  besides  the  usual  profusion  of 
choice  fruits,  cigars  iced  cakes  and  bon- 
bons. For  Mr.  Schutte  had  a  family  at 
home.  Everyone  must  care  for  his  own. 
husband  in  the  doorway.    She  had  wanted 

Anna  received  a  shock  when  she  spied  her 
to  'phone  him  that  afternoon  that  the  attor- 
ney might  be  forty-eight  years  old.  Distance 
extenuates.  From  day  to  day  she  had  post- 
poned saying  this  into  August's  face. 

Now  there  was  no  time  for  private  alter- 

52 


■  '?li*J'^?*i<^';v'i!s^''/.^,''>--'  <■.■.■■-  ,  '.'  .^■"-  ■~T5?r'=^r^/^T'riT'5T>"<«5^^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


cation.  The  bell  might  ring  at  any  moment. 
Bomherling  must  change  quickly.  Since 
some  time  Anna  was  stately  and  pompous. 

Mr.  Schutte  had  put  on  his  gloves  and 
said  in  the  refined  whisper  that  was  peculiar 
to  him: 

"Pardon,  Madam,  one  must  not  wait  till 
it  rings.  I  shall  go  to  the  entry,  and  open 
when  it  rings.  I  invite  the  guests  to  step 
into  the  drawing-room.*' 

Mrs.  Bomherling  asked  if  she  might  take 
a  last  look  into  the  kitchen.  Mr.  Schutte 
consented,  with  a  pitying  shrug  of  his 
shoulder. 

When  Anna  came  hurrying  back  along 
the  hall  Mr.  Schutte  asked  if  she  had  any 
objection  to  his  whispering  the  brand  of 
each  wine  as  he  poured  it  into  the  guests' 
glass.    That  this  was  customary. 

"Must  that  be?"  asked  Anna  alarmed, 
and  stared  into  the  expressionless  visage 
before  her. 

Schutte  nodded. 

Anna  hesitated.  Then  she  said  doubt- 
fully that  she  believed  only  the  champagne 
was  of  any  well-known  brand. 

A8 


Babette  Bomberling 


Mr.  Schutte  reassured  her.  That  would 
not  matter  in  the  least.  That  he  was  ac- 
customed to  mumhling  only  the  most  first- 
class  names. 

With  that  he  bowed  low  and  opened  the 
door  of  the  drawing-room. 

A  good  lackey  is  a  great  saving. 
Her    mind    at    ease,    Mrs.    Bomberling 
rustled  in. 

Bomberling  waited. 

At  first  it  appeared  as  though  all  had  for- 
gotten their  invitations,  but  then  they  came 
in  quick  succession. 

First  of  all,  Hilda  Wagner  with  her 
brother,  Fred,  in  uniform.  Then  Paul  with 
exquisite  flowers.  Behind  him,  Bomberling*s 
chief  clerk  straight  from  the  barber's.  At 
his  side  his  young  wife,  who  was  in  mourn- 
ing. She  excused  herself,  saying  that  her 
grandmother  had  died,  and  really  she  should 
not  attend  parties,  but  that  this  little  dinner 
surely  could  not  be  considered  a  pleasure. 

In  the  meanwhile  a  classmate  of  Her- 
man's had  come  and  made  a  splendid  bow 
before  each  one.     And  fin-ally  the  widow 

54 


^^ifW^^'^^r^^^S^---    V  ,•'■■-."'-■    ■  '^^ '■"-■:  ^->.'  '-^/-J%X^r':pWV'^'-^s?%^^^  ■    <if/r-i.-,>"t}WtV.-P".%r  "J^l"*- 


Babette  BomberUng 


with  her  nephew,  the  illustrious  Gustavius 
Kobertson. 

Dinner  could  have  been  served  immedi- 
ately, if  it  had  not  been  necessary  to  wait 
for  Uncle  Albert  and  Aunt  Helen. 

Babette  sat  on  the  arm  of  a  chair  and 
watched  the  new  acquaintance,  who  had 
taken  a  seat  next  to  her  father  and  was  con- 
versing with  him. 

He  was  tall  and  lean.  His  nails  were  as 
glossy  as  his  patent-leather  shoes.  His  fore- 
head reached  to  the  nape  of  his  neck. 

Babette  sniffed  the  air.  Then  she  quickly 
slipped  from  her  chair.  She  wanted  to  tell 
Hilda  Wagner  that  this  man  perfumed 
himself. 

Herman  and  his  friend  had  exchanged  a 
look  of  appreciation  of  the  attorney's  mono- 
cle, which  sat  firmly,  as  if  rooted,  under  the 
eyebrow.  The  fellow  was  undoubtedly  a 
cavalier.  In  the  meantime  the  object  of 
their  admiration,  lounging  in  his  big  chair, 
was  occupied  in  making  it  quite  clear  to  this 
coffin  manufacturer  that  he  had  made  a  re- 
markably quick  career.   With  such  fabulous 

6S 


■7r*iS.'«5  ' 


Babette  BomberUng 


rapidity  few  would  ever  be  able  to  follow 
him.    . 

That  assertion  was  not  incorrect.  Such 
an  accident  could  hardly  come  again,  and 
it  was  that  alone  which  had  allowed  Mr. 
Robertson  to  advance  so  rapidly.  One  aft- 
ernoon when  Mr.  Robertson  was  as  usual 
boring  himself  horribly,  he  had  thoughtless- 
ly drawn  a  huge  question-mark  on  the  va- 
cant half  of  the  document  that  he  was  sup- 
posed to  work  on.  A  beautiful  question- 
mark  with  a  big  hump  like  a  creditor  and  a 
slender  waist  Uke  a  pretty  girl,  and  beneath 
it  a  dot,  full  and  round  as  the  globe.  At 
that  moment  the  door  was  pulled  open  and 
his  chief  came  in.  Robertson  tried  in-  vain 
to  hide  the  result  of  his  undesired  drawing 
talent. 

"You  have  found  sometJvng  doubtful? 
Hand  it  to  me." 

What  Fate  has  in  store  for  us  is  sure  to 
take  place.  The  document  was  examined. 
Mr.  Robertson  had  discovered  a  big  fraud 
and  rendered  a  great  service  to  his  govern- 
ment. 

56 


-V ■■■'-!'■,. '^  •■;/■;  ■;;  ■■.■ 


Babette  Bomherling 


Most  things  really  require  a  great  deal 
less  brain  than  we  imagine. 

But  this  was  a  purely  personal  matter  of 
the  attorney's.  It  is  comprehensible  that  he 
did  not  allude  to  these  details. 

Besides,  he  was  interrupted  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  last  guests.  Uncle  Albert 
and  Aunt  Helen  had  arrived. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  would  have  been  hearti- 
ly glad  not  to  invite  them.  They  did  not 
belong  among  these  guests,  but  Albert  was 
August's  brother,  and  if  she  had  asked 
Helen  to  postpone  her  birthday  visit,  she 
would  have  come  to  spite  her.  Aunt  Helen 
was  one  of  those  who  cannot  see  why  one 
should  try  to  please  people. 

Two  little  creases  cm^ed  from  her  mouth. 
These  simulated  a  continual  smile  on  her 
face.  That  was  an  illusion,  she  never 
smiled. 

As  she  entered  the  drawing-room  now, 
she  remarked  that  she  would  not  have  been 
late  if  she  could  afford  a  taxi  like  certain 
other  people.  Then  she  greeted  the  other 
guests  with  a  sharp  look.  At  short  intervals 
Albert  was  making  bows  a  step  behind  her. 

m 


"if^'Fvt'vn'   r*  jT»-7',*»7?vr.'  I'.  '■  ■r;r'--;j.-^.v;»r""'"^r^,Tt»r  T~  ^:«  TCpc  "■,  ?.^  ■'^  ^  7^  I*  ."wy^^^^J^fJpWir 


K-.wy^T'T^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


His  long  black  coat  hung  from  his  bony 
shoulders  as  from  a  wooden  coat-hanger.  A 
long  beard,  gray  and  well-groomed  lent  him 
a  dignified  appearance.  He  was  a  life- 
insurance  agent,  and  so  the  occupations  of 
the  two  brothers  were  related. 

Schutte  rolled  the  doors  back.  They  went 
to  dinner. 

When  Mrs.  Bomherling  saw  that  the 
pate  lay  perfectly  in  the  center  of  the  plat- 
ter, she  sighed  with  relief. 

Her  neighbor  was  telling  of  the  delightful 
variations  of  the  modern  motor  siren.  A 
friend  of  his  had  a  horn  that  coughed  like 
a  dog — a  charming  thing. 

"How  very  interesting,"  murmured  Mrs. 
Bomherling,  the  while  praying  to  God  that 
He  keep  the  trout  from  becoming  too  soggy. 

Soon  all  were  conversing  animatedly.  As 
in  all  the  noisy  confusions  of  Hfe,  each  un- 
derstood the  other  better  than  himself. 

One  could  hear  Mrs.  Bomherling  saying 
that  only  the  man  with  his  own  home  was 
in  possession  of  his  full  self-respect. 

And  Aunt  Helen  scolding  about  the 
peas,  for  rolling  off  the  knife  so  easily. 

58 


'.y 


■'¥*''*■ 'i'"^~'iP7:'f?.'i'J^-;      ■:  '■   '"'  ::*•■';;..-.■;■:  ',;. ,  >fsi'^s*^--??^»ji"^ff;'T7''W*'§!?«RT^'7v"  : .r''    ^■'fS^TTVpfl^^ r'^' '^4^ ■ 


Babette  Bomberling 


And  Paul  calling  to  the  lieutenant  that 
young  girls  did  not  know  their  own  minds. 

To  all  this  the  clinking  of  glasses  and 
rattling  of  plates. 

Mr.  Schutte  served  the  attorney  with 
especial  deference.  He  had  experience. 
The  oldest  on€  was  always  intended  for  the 
bridegroom.  The  young  plantlets  were 
only  there  as  a  decorative  filling.  Suddenly 
Aunt  Helen  shrieked  shrilly: 

"This  is  too  much.  Every  time  the 
fellow  fills  my  glass  he  mumbles  some 
impertinence." 

Schutte  continued  quietly,  whispering 
"Pissporter"  into  the  ear  of  the  next,  and 
poured  wine. 

The  young  men  grinned.  The  widow 
stared  silently  at  her  plate,  only  her  long, 
gray  eyelashes  fluttered.  Mr.  Robertson 
trained  his  monocle  on  Aimt  Helen  and 
observed  her  until  her  mistake  had  been  ex- 
plained from  all  sides. 

"There  seems  to  be  something  new  every 
day,"  she  said  testily,  while  her  face  wore 
its  staid  smile. 

Anna  had  two  red  roses  on  her  cheeks. 


59 


•'.^•tvii^--,    ;'.•  -•  •'  •,  -    ■.    •<■   -■':        ...-■  ■■  '■     ..-•,r;—v-'--;     -■■-.'•   ;:^-'  .   v;-.  "   ,>^;i« '•>>-7»5;y'R!^ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


She  had  Aunt  Helen  and  Uncle  Albert 
served  a  second  time.  Chewing  is  a  hin- 
drance to  speech. 

However,  wine  makes  the  tongue  wag, 
and  Mr.  Schutte  refilled  Aunt  Helen's 
glass  to  the  brim  whenever  she  had  sipped 
at  it.  We  avenge  with  the  means  at  our 
disposal. 

And  so  Aunt  Helen  began  to  chatter. 
She  told  the  illustrious  guest  and  everyone 
who  cared  to  Usten,  that  she  did  not  need 
to  be  ashamed  of  her  origin  either.  In  her 
little  home  town  her  mother  had  been  the 
first  to  own  a  set  of  real  artificial  teeth. 
Today  they  were  still  talking  about  it. 
She  had  never  adjusted  it  inside  the  house, 
but,  when  she  left  the  door  she  would  call 
the  servant  to  fetch  her  mouthpiece  and  in 
plain  sight  of  all,  would  hook  it  in.  For  at 
that  time  people  were  no  diflPerent  than 
today.  What  they  do  not  see  they  don't 
beheve. 

4|(     4(     #     «     # 

Anna  rose  from  the  table.     The  sweets 

might  as  well  be  passed  in  the  other  rooms. 

Someone  went  to  the  piano  and  played. 

60 


7yi^>— T-J^'Tii.JI^  ;iiyi_'*»^iijj»  lywi^Blil  iijipjljyy^^|y^gpyj  miu'lftllV  '      "  \"' '  •  "»'^W^PW<g''Wy 


Babette  BomberUng 


The  music  was  pleasant  after  the  good  meal. 
The  men  smoked.  The  attorney  stood  be- 
neath the  etching  and  whispered  pretty- 
compliments  in  Babette's  ear.  She  listened 
smiling,  the  while  her  eyes  met  the  glances 
of  the  lieutenant,  who  was  watching  from 
the  further  room. 

The  widow  whispered  to  her  friend  that 
eveiything  had  gone  marvelously. 

Paul  approached  Babette  and  asked  if 
she  remembered  him. 

She  tucked  her  arm  under  his  and  drew 
him  aside.  She  asked  him  whether  he  did 
not  think  Hilda's  brother  was  awfully  smart 
and  dashing.  /He  said  that  there  was  a 
frivolous  expression  about  the  lieutenant's 
mouth.  Babette  laughed  and  said  that  she 
could  only  see  a  blond  moustache  there  and 
that  Paul  showed  no  judgment  of  men  at 
aU. 

Schutte  passed  the  coffee  and  cordials. 

Aunt  Helen  wiped  her  mouth  and  sug- 
gested breaking  up  for  the  trip  home.  She 
did  not  care  to  miss  the  last  trolley.  Anna 
did  not  blame  her;  her  own  resources  were 
at  an  end. 


01 


'  ^>:>:.;- 


Babette  Bomherling 


Many  bows  and  handshakes. 

Voices  died  away. 

Mr.  Schutte  asked  if  he  might  go,  and 
disappeared  down  the  back  stairs  for  home 
and  family. 

The  Bomberlings  remained  in  the  empty 
rooms  that  seemed  large  and  barren,  as 
though  the  noisy  guests  had  widened  them. 

The  Ughts  extinguished,  good-night  was 
bidden. 

In  the  bedroom  Bomherling  said : 

"You  did  your  part  sublimely,  dear,  only 
the  bridgroom  was  rather  old  vintage." 

He  laughed,  for  he  was  glad  that  the 
whole  affair  was  over.  This  old  boy  should 
never  have  his  daughter,  as  sure  as  her 
name  was  Babette  Bomherling. 

Anna  had  not  answered. 

The  exhausted  mother  had  fallen  asleep. 

«  «  «  «  « 

One  can  have  too  much  of  a  good  thing. 

Bomberling's  fireside  comfort  was  gone. 

Whenever  Mrs.  Bomherling  was  resting, 
stretching  in  her  easy  chair,  freed  of  all 
formal  restrictions,  her  lorgnette  resting  on 
the  toilette-table  and  the  comfortable  spec- 

62 


K»-T^-7»".=r'»-  :.  ■;-.'■        .-■71 ,-  .'  -/-      ..-i-         .■:'-.;  ■>--^-.;   -■.- ^ ;- y-^-.  ^^.-XS,  .*"■-•,"■.'*- r     --    ■-.-'.  1-75.  -     ■^■. --       --■-■.-.;-      ■   •  J;^ic*"^'".' .-  .    "^    -  -■  T*^;^ 


Bahette  BomherUng 


tacles  on  her  nose,  facilitating  the  perusal 
of  the  illustrated  weekly — ^it  rang,  and  Mr. 
Koberston  came  to  call. 

Whenever  Bomberhng  felt  thoroughly  at 
home,  smoking  in  his  chair  or  pacing  the 
room,  hands  in  his  pockets,  glad  of  Anna, 
of  the  appetizing  picture  on  the  wall,  of 
hopping  Napoleon  for  whom  he  kindly 
picked  up  the  bit  of  sugar  he  threw  out  of 
his  cage — ^it  rang,  and  Mr.  Koberston  came 
to  call. 

For  the  visitor  these  calls  had  become  a 
pleasant  habit.  He  enjoyed  sitting  in  the 
brightly  lit  rooms,  smoking  one  good  cigar- 
ette after  another,  and  taking  pleasure  in 
Babette's  seventeen  years.  The  fact  that 
his  aunt  had  assured  him  that  this  pretty 
girl  would  not  turn  him  down,  sent  him  into 
an  ecstasy  that  was  not  unpleasant. 

The  sooner  wooed  the  better. 

He  was  earnestly  considering  giving  his 
approaching  fiftieth  birthday  the  proper 
consecration  with  marriage. 

In  the  meanwhile  Anna,  full  of  humility 
and  devotion,  screwed  herself  once  more 

68 


Babette  BomberUng 


into  her  tight,  tailored  frock  before  her  bed- 
room mirror. 

In  the  kitchen  they  were  preparing  little 
delicious  bites.  All  the  Ughts  in  the  "region 
of  culture"  were  turned  on,  and  a  cloth  was 
hung  over  little  Napoleon's  cage. 

Babette  was  visibly  pleased  with  the 
visits  of  the  attorney.  They  brought  an  in- 
terruption into  deadly  dull  family  peace 
which  was  harder  for  her  to  bear  than  ever 
before.  She  felt  as  we  all  do  in  early 
Spring,  when  we  can't  bear  to  be  in  our 
quiet  rooms,  and  yet  find  no  respite,  in  the 
noisy  streets,  because  we  see  stones  instead 
of  grass  and  flowers. 

She  sat  at  the  piano  and  played.  When 
she  stopped,  she  would  smile  at  Mr.  Kobers- 
ton  and  ask  him  at  what  age  a  lieutenant 
became  a  captain,  or  whether  one  must  do 
anything  besides  growing  old  to  become  a 
general  and  commander-in"-chief. 

We  are  flattered  to  be  asked  something 
we  know.  The  attorney  was  glad  to  answer 
and  give  explicit  information.  At  last  a 
girl  who  was  hungry  for  knowledge  and  did 
not  babble  of  dances  and  theaters. 


64 


.^-rt 


WPf ''MWi "^ ■> P^  -yytTJW-"-'' ,: • ". ; ■::-".-^yr- •T_f^';'^.y!^:-r^i^^,:^Si;if^:'yi^T!ii;r;::i:^7^T.':-^--^.i^:y,:^'' 


Babette  BomherUng 


Beaming  on  the  chatting  pair,  slightly 
out  of  breath,  Anna  entered  the  pleasant 
music  room.  ^ 

She  excused  her  tardy  appearance  with  a 
lot  of  fuss.  Mr.  Koberston  tried  to  interrupt 
her  as  soon  as  possible;  he  blew  a  kiss  way 
over  her  round  hand  that  held  the  lorgnette, 
and  insisted  that  she  should  not  have  let  his 
appearance  disturb  her  in  the  least.  Even 
politenesses  may  occasionally  be  truthful. 

Bomberling  invariably  had  the  misfortune 
to  enter  the  room  just  as  the  dear  caller  was 
making  his  adieus  and  driving  to  his  club. 

Winter  had  come,  real  winter,  with  sleet 
and  snowflakes  and  ice.  This  is  justified 
for  winter  sports  in  the  mountains  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  but  here  in  the  great  city  it  is 
only  an  abominable  hindrance  to  traffic. 

On  this  Mrs.  Bomberling  and  Mr.  Ko- 
berston were  agreed  as  they  now  sat  alone 
together,  for  Babette  was  skating  with 
Hilda  Wagner. 

The  quiet  rooms  were  warm  and  bright. 
The  water  was  bubbling  in  the  tea-kettle 
and  the  wind  howled  outdoors. 

'It  makes  me  shiver  to  hear  it,"  said  the 

65 


(<i 


^'WR's;>'^5WB^- ' 


Babette  Bomherling 


attorney.       "Isn't    it     reckless     of    your 
daughter " 

A  loud  ring,  as  though  all  youth  were 
sounding  an  alarm.  Skates  clinked  and 
Babette's  head  popped  around  the  door, 
with  snow  on  her  fur  cap. 

"What  heavenly  weather  we  are  having  I" 
she  called  and  slammed  the  door. 

Only  a  whiff  of  fresh  air  remained  be- 
hind. The  attorney  stroked  his  smooth, 
bald  head,  unpleasantly  affected. 

Babette  had  merely  wished  to  reassure 
herself  that  the  usual  visitor  was  in  his  cus- 
tomary chair.  Anything  as  long  as  she 
wouldn't  have  to  eat  alone  with  the  family 
today.  And  she  cordially  asked  Mr.  Ko- 
berston  to  stay  to  supper. 

For  in  the  midst  of  the  street's  turmoil, 
when  they  were  yelling  the  evening  paper, 
all  the  lights  had  flamed  up,  and  it  had 
seemed  to  become  lighter  instead  of  darker, 
while  Hilda  was  buying  a  postage  stamp, 
and  while  she  and  Lieutenant  Wagner  had 
sworn  eternal  faith.  Now  she  was  betrothed. 

Babette  came  out  of  her  dreams  with  a 

66 


'^P*l^B?r'9P3!!n5^i??Cf^Tf^ 


■"«^jii^i  »•.■.»  ,'^^-  r-T=y  "^fl^ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


shock.  It  seemed  as  though  someone  had 
screamed  "ENGAGED." 

They  were  at  the  table  eating  sahnon  with 
brown  butter,  and  watching  for  the  bones. 
Mr.  Koberston  was  quietly  remarking  that 
fish  was  good  and  easily  digestible  food. 
Then  Anna  reported  that  the  handle  had 
broken  off  one  of  the  Russian  cups.  It  is 
a  misfortune  when  such  an  accident  strikes 
even  the  wealthy. 

Bomherling  ate  silently.  He  looked 
weary.  At  this  time  of  the  year,  orders 
heaped  up  till  they  could  scarce  be  carried 
out.  He  broke  away  from  his  thoughts  only 
once  to  remark  that  there  seemed  to  be  a  lot 
of  influenza. 

"One  must  not  think  of  that,"  said  the 
attorney  slightly  jarred. 

Herman  was  not  there.  He  was  at  a 
friend's,  who  was  supposed  to  help  him  with 
his  books.  But  this  friend's  name  was  Liane 
Violetta,  the  star  of  a  vaudeville,  at  which  he 
and  Mr.  Koberston  were  regular  guests. 

Anna  was  tired  today  too.  Her  gout 
bothered  her  in  such  weather  and  this  new 
dress     was     particularly     tight,     but     she 

67 


.,3^,  t,.  ■•  .'/-T.fti;'?^^ sij-ipjiwjs' ' 


Babette  Bomherling 


straightened  up  and  smiled.  Her  pretty 
daughter  should  have  happiness  and  social 
prestige. 

Babette  played  soft  Spring  songs.  Mr. 
Koberston  followed  her  into  the  music 
room. 

Then  Babette  stopped  and  said  that  her 
hand  hurt.  The  attorney  wanted  to  see  the 
poor  little  hand.  He  took  it  and  suddenly 
slipped  his  first  finger  up  inside  her  silk 
sleeve. 

Babette  shrieked  and  tore  herself  away. 
Anna  came  in  and  asked  what  had 
happened. 

Babette  rubbed  her  wrist  under  the  sleeve 
and  said  a  nasty  animal  had  bitten  her. 

Anna  blushed.  She  reminded  Babette 
that  in  a  clean  home,  such  as  that  of  her 
parents,  there  were  no  nasty  animals. 

But  Babette  continued  rubbing  her  arm 
and  left  the  room. 

Mr.  Koberston  smiled  and  told  Mrs. 
BomberUng  not  to  be  embarrassed;  such  a 
thing  might  happen  in  the  best  of  families. 
But  he  left  soon  after  that. 

ifc   ifi   ^   ifi   nil 


68 


T^^nr— ,..^^r'-  '}:v-''-'' ,        •;.  "■    •-.  '   ••  .; ;;,\-j;,- .  ,,i^_5^  .f::Sr"^- >   ;  :^; 


•»  .-. 


'1 


Babette  Bomherling 


The  following  morning  an  icy  blast 
swept  through  the  Bomberlings'  apartment. 

All  the  windows  were  open,  the  vacuum- 
cleaner  was  sucking  and  the  beaters  beat- 
ing. The  suspicious  oriental  rug  on  the 
hall  floor  was  getting  special  attention. 
Anna  could  not  endure  insects.  The  cold 
that  streamed  in  was  a  painful  torture,  but 
we  must  do  our  duty  where  we  see  it. 

Yesterday's  occurrence  should  not  be  re- 
peated. Anna  wanted  to  be  able  to  tell  her 
noted  guest  that  he  might  take  his  tea  in  her 
rooms  without  fear  of  disturbance.  There 
were  no  crawly  creatures  at  the  Bomber- 
Hngs'.  She  wanted  to  call  his  attention  to 
the  fact  that  a  man  is  sheltered  best  in  his 
own  home. 

But  few  plans  are  realized.  Most  of  them 
are  there  just  to  keep  us  breathless. 

The  attorney  did  not  come  that  after- 
noon, and  even  on  the  following  day  he  re- 
mained away  from  the  Bomberlings'  apart- 
ment. Anna  waited  in  vain  for  his  call  the 
entire  day,  not  daring  to  make  herself  com- 
fortable even  for  a  moment. 

The  third  morning  brought  a  letter,  that 

69 


'  ^^;,y^  -»  ,  ■■■■■'■"     *>.'  ■         1'        *  I V  ■■_  7.  ^\i .  *'fjlflS^'^  ^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


sent  a  balmy  fragance  of  heliotrope  over  the 
salami  on  the  breakfast  table. 

When  Anna  had  cut  the  envelope  it 
seemed  to  her  as  though  the  hand-made 
paper  was  entirely  covered  with  insects' 
legs.  Hastily  she  took  up  her  spectacles. 
Then  she  guessed  from  whom  this  letter 
might  be  and  with  a  shock  laid  these  aside 
and  grasped  her  diamond-studded  lorgnette. 

How  easily  we  may  become  guilty  of  an 
impropriety. 

The  letter  was  actually  from  Mr.  Ko- 
berston.  The  long  thin  script  informed  her 
that  a  sudden  longing  for  clean  mountain 
air  was  taking  him  to  St.  Moritz.  It  ex- 
pressed his  gratitude  and  the  hope  that  the 
future  would  bring  another  meeting. 

Anna  paled.  "Clean  mountain  air"  hit  her 
as  a  bitter  reproach.  Couldn't  she  have  had 
the  carpets  beaten  a  day  sooner?  One  tiny 
creature  had  annihilated  her  entire  plan. 
Or  had  it  been  the  coffins  again?  She  brood- 
ed and  worried. 

Herman  was  upset  too,  when  he  had  read 
the  letter.  He  had  just  founded  a  Fletcher- 
izing  club.    Every  member  was  obliged  to 

70 


T'P-'^JJ'-rVLi'^^   .  « 


Bahette  Bomherling 


chew  every  bite  that  he  took  in  this  chewing 
club — seventy-four  times. 

Herman  had  intended  to  make  the  illus- 
trious friend  of  the  family  an  honorary 
member,  in  order  to  put  the  club  on  a  higher 
plane.  "This  doesn't  suit  me  a  bit,"  said 
Herman  snifiing  at  the  letter. 

"Nor  me,"  said  Anna,  looking  lovingly 
at  her  big  boy.  They  agreed  so  rarely  now- 
adays. 

Now  Babette  entered.  A  sad,  earnest 
mother-look  went  from  the  letter  to  the  tall, 
slim  girl. 

Babette  brought  two  bundles  of  pine 
boughs,  which  she  had  just  bought  of  a  wo- 
man on  the  back  stairs. 

She  pressed  a  hearty  kiss  on  her  mother's 
cheek,  and  said  that  the  old  woman  had  told 
her  the  snow  was  three  feet  deep  in  the 
country. 

"That  made  me  think  of  Grandpa's  black- 
smith shop,"  said  she.  "When  I  was  httle 
you  used  to  tell  me  how  you  all  sat  around 
the  warm,  red  fire  while  the  snow  drifted 
high  outside."  , 

71 


•■•-'-■■^  '-1' 


,    ■  •«-^'^,*:f  f< 


Babette  BomberUng 


Anna  cleared  her  throat  several  times. 
The  maid  might  come  in  at  any  moment, 
was  perhaps  at  the  door  already. 

She  was  angry  with  Babette  and  more  so 
with  herself.  When  had  she  told  the  child 
all  this  nonsense.  It  must  have  been  in 
those  first  years  when  the  hammering  of  the 
great  city  had  always  reminded  her  of  the 
anvil  at  home.  Children  have  an  mimerciful 
memory. 

"How  lovely  that  must  have  been,"  said 
Babette  dreamily,  "the  red  fire  and  out- 
doors the  cold,  white  snow." 

A  suspicion  crept  up  in  Anna. 

"Babette,  you  didn't  by  any  chance 
happen  to  tell  Mr.  Koberston  of  the 
smithy?"  she  questioned. 

Babette  shook  her  head  thoughtfully  and 
said  she  could  remember  nothing  of  the 
sort. 

Her  mother  passed  her  the  letter. 
Anxiously  Mrs.  Bomberling  watched  the 
smooth  and  rosy  baby  face.  It  changed  to  a 
mischievous  grin. 

72 


HK^^'^^''T*'  .     ^■■-■■■'     \/'''y     ■-:•'.     ,:~-    ,-»      \..    ■-'.'V^/'iJ/^'     -^■'''^>^:>Tfj^^  ■■■       ;'-.,'-■  Sf|e~4!KT~i-~.*'J-vy;i_J5i  ' 


BaJbette  Bomherling 


"I  should  like  to  see  the  good  man  on 
skiis,  tearing  down-  a  hill,"  said  she  giggling 
with  delight. 

That  was  all.  With  that  the  affair  was 
ended  for  her.  She  was  cutting  and  tying 
the  pine  branches  and  declaring  she  would 
soon  change  the  apartment  into  a  winter 
wood.  Anna  was  glad  and  yet  distressed. 
She  had  surely  not  wanted  her  child  to 
suffer;  but  hadn't  it  appeared  as  though 
Babette  had  been  greatly  pleased  with  these 
calls? 

What  a  difficult  time  a  mother  has  under- 
standing her  children! 

She  brooded  and  grieved.  But  our  every- 
day  life  claims  its  rights. 

The  big  bill  of  the  delicatessen  dealer  was 
no  dream. 

When  she  asked  Bomherling  for  a  small 
extra  for  that  month's  housekeeping,  and 
regretted  that  it  had  been  spent  all  in  vain, 
he  burst  out  laughing  and  gave  her  double 
the  amount.  He  only  advised  her  to  leave 
all  matrimonial  plans  alone.  Then  he  pinched 
her  right  cheek,  as  was  his  habit,  and  left 
smiling. 

78 


;\yf.':^yfK^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


He  could  not  let  himself  in  for  further 
discussions.    The  factory  was  waiting. 

Anna  sighed.  She  enjoyed  talking  a 
thing  over.  Why  if  not  for  that,  had  she 
married  after  all? 

Wistfully  she  put  the  money  in  her  silver 
mesh-bag.  It  was  a  shame  that  Bomherling 
gave  his  family  so  little  thought. 

The  pine  boughs  spread  peace  in  the 
family.  All  who  came  from  the  cold  out- 
side into  the  warm  room,  remarked  that 
Christmas  was  approaching,  and  were 
pleased. 

All  except  Babette.  It  always  seemed 
to  her  as  though  a  window  were  open 
somewhere,  or  a  stranger  were  sitting  at 
their  table,  making  fun  of  her  parents' 
conversation. 

A  secret  is  a  heavy  burden,  and  Babette 
was  not  accustomed  to  carrying  burdens. 

She  had  had  to  make  one  promise  after 
another.  Not  a  soul  was  to  know  of  her 
happiness.  Fred  would  tell  her  the  reasons 
for  this  later  on. 

His  leave  was  over  and  he  had  gone. 
Every  day  she  called  at  the  post-office  for 

74 


.  i'i'T-Tr'yy'-i'^r::^^^?^  ^■"^'^i^i^^'^ywar^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


her  letter.  Her  little  purse  was  filled  with 
stamps.  For  every  time  she  wanted  to  ask 
for  a  letter,  everyone  seemed  to  grin 
stupidly,  and  then  she  would  quickly  buy  a 
stamp  and  flee.  But  now  the  clerk  at  the 
window  knew  her,  and  the  big  envelope 
passed  into  her  hand  between  two  silent 
smiles. 

It  invariably  contained  a  huge  white 
sheet,  over  which  a  few  lines  of  hasty  words 
ran,  hke  horses  galloping  out  of  the  bar- 
racks. These  words  always  said  the  same, 
that  Fred  loves  his  little  darling  and  is 
thinking  of  her  day  and  night.  And  at  the 
end  they  poured  out  a  lot  of  kisses. 

There  is  no  joy  that  does  not  also  sadden. 

These  letters,  which  Babette  carried  duti- 
fully over  her  heart,  did  not  please  her  a  bit. 

She  would  sit  in  the  winter  twihght,  in 
her  cheery  room,  close  by  the  snow-banked 
window,  and  dream  of  someone  who  would 
write  Uttle  letters,  which  would  not  blurt 
everything  out  roughly,  and  yet  would  be 
brimful  of  tenderness — and  wouldn't  smell 
of  tobacco,  either. 

76 


y^'lr^T^^^-  ,.■■■,'-■■■•-1.,-.        _■       ■•'      ^;.  -3,-    • -,    -^-- ■;       •     .         .    ;■         ....      ,    ;i,"_         ■  ">       ■-;■•.-■-    -,;,■■  "l     -    ■-''■'•  f.'^:;**?'^ 


Babette  BomherUng 


When  it  had  become  dark  she  would 
spring  up.  Reminding  herself  that  she  had 
no  business  thinking  of  strangers  any  more; 
that  she  must  concentrate  on  Fred.  She 
tried  to  recall  him.  The  black,  glossy  hair 
accurately  parted,  the  small  eyes,  brown 
and  flashing.  The  white  teeth  under  the 
thick  moustache,  and  the  beautiful  blue  and 
red  uniform. 

And  now  she  would  light  the  lamps  and 
write  a  short,  adoring  letter,  wherein  she 
would  forget  that  it  was  not  directed  to 
an  unknown. 

Fred  found  these  epistles  when  he  came 
back  from  duty,  dead  tired.  He  flew 
through  them,  yawned  and  stuck  them,  all 
crumpled,  into  his  breeches  pockets.  Then 
he  threw  himself  on  the  couch  and  thought 
of— "Mucky." 

"Mucky"  tried  on  winter  coats  all  day. 
She  turned  and  twisted  !her  supple  cat's- 
body  before  respectable  smaU-town  wo- 
men, who  could  never  understand  why  the 
coats  look  so  different  today  than  yester- 
day at  the  shop. 

76 


-',rSh«i..J 


WfTv^W^'^"--''^^^}  ■  '•       '  .■  •  ..T""*fvf™^^'*(-5'^'?^'    .y«!^^  ■  \  ■,  ■'_    ':  r??lw3W'^?-  'sr'-^'TrsTS 


Babette  BomberUng 


And  when  "Mucky"  had  turned  a  thou- 
sand times  upon  her  patent  leather  slippers, 
until  even  the  old  earth  had  turned  on  its 
axle,  "Mucky"  would  sup  with  Freddy  in  a 
wing  of  the  Eagle  House. 

While  she  poked  deUcious  morsels  into 
her  mouth,  she  related  how  the  husbands, 
who  accompanied  their  ladies,  would  often 
look  as  though  they  would  rather  choose 
her  than  the  coat.  And  when  she  had  drunk 
a  little,  she  became  sad  and  said  that  in  the 
metropoUs  she  would  surely  have  had  her 
own  flat  by  this  time,  a  prize  pekinese  and 
a  live  parrot.  And  then  she  would  laugh 
again,  pull  her  Freddy's  moustache,  and 
tell  him  that  he  was  not  at  all  what  she  had 
once  dreamt,  and  that  she  like  the  uniform 
of  the  red  hussars  much  better  than  his. 

Fred  assured  her  that  no  one  is  perfect 
and  that  she  might  well  be  satisfied  with  his 
uniform.  And  then  he  ordered  another 
bottle  of  champagne  and  caviar  set  in  a 
block  of  ice. 

This  did  not  only  bring  him  nearer  to 
"Mucky,"  but  also  to  his  fiancee.  For  all 
debts  must  be  paid  eventually.    The  income 

77 


\\-\7'>-\-"'f^ri,.  's:Ty^  -g^''  ^  V  -   ^f**^^     "^ 


^  V  -"* 


Babette  BomberUng 


of  the  coffin  factory  would  have  no  musty 
odor  for  him. 

For  this  reason  it  was  a  part  of  Freddy's 
daily  program  to  dash  off  a  page  of  hasty 
love  words  before  supper  and  address  the 
envelope  to  Babette. 

While  writing  these,  his  thoughts  would 
already  be  with  "Mucky."  But  as  he  licked 
the  envelope  he  said  to  himself  that  wives 
must  have  less  temperament  than  she,  and 
he  reduced  the  ten  thousand  kisses  to  one 
thousand. 

We  must  take  life  as  it  comes  to  us. 

But  what  seems  little  to  one,  is  a  great 
deal  for  another. 

These  letters  were  more  of  a  burden  to 
Babette  from  day  to  day. 

They  oppressed  her.  They  almost  choked 
her  ringing  laughter  when  Herman's  friend, 
who  now  skated  with  her  daily,  told  her  his 
jolly  yarns  and  jokes. 

She  came  to  resent  Hilda.  Had  she 
really  needed  a  postage  stamp  that  time? 

Only  when  the  band  played  a  senti- 
mental waltz  and  she  flew  through  the  clear 
winter  air  with  Herman's  friend,  would  she 

78 


5JiH5?BP»?j'r^:v:  TT'vi-^T'^T'v"' ''^' "^^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


be  reconciled,  and  think  it  heavenly  to  be  se- 
cretly engaged.  Then  she  would  wish  that 
the  present  moment  might  last  forever. 

But  unfortunately  bliss  is  not  lasting. 

One  day  Fred  wrote  that  he  was  re- 
turning. 

The  sable  scarf  that  "Mucky"  wished  for 
Christmas,  forced  him  to  this.  However  the 
reasons  of  our  deeds  he  hidden. 

Babette  was  startled.  She  reread  the 
letter.  The  script  galloped  so  fast  over  the 
sheet,  as  though  Fred  were  on  the  way  al- 
ready. 

Her  restlessness  drove  her  to  Hilda, 
where  she  might  possibly  hear  more  without 
giving  herself  away. 

This  was  the  first  time  Babette  had  been 
to  the  Wagners'  since  she  had  secretly  be- 
come related  to  them.  As  she  ran  up  the 
wide  stairs,  she  noticed  that  they  were 
marble  outside,  and  inside  wood.  With  a 
shock  it  dawned  on  her  that  Hilda's  cranky 
papa  was  now  her  papa,  and  Hilda's  thin, 
nervous  mamma  was  now  her  mamma.  She 
sighed.  A  great  wave  of  tenderness  for  her 
own  father  and  mother  filled  her. 

79 


/■^flT.*/"  - 


■•    ■^^^'^^■r. 


Babette  Bomherling 


Hilda  was  the  only  one  at  home.  She  was 
in  her  room,  her  bathroom,  packing  a  suit- 
case. She  was  to  go  to  her  aunt,  whom  she 
helped  with  the  house-cleaning  every  year. 

She  was  actually  only  an  aunt  of  her 
father's.  Hilda  told  how  she  had  been 
afraid  of  her  as  a  child.  She  had  thought 
the  bony  fingers  of  her  long,  lean  hands 
were  witch's  pincers.  But  this  aunt  had  a 
veritable  treasure  collection  of  old  china, 
silver  and  fine  linen ;  for  this  reason  Hilda's 
father  insisted  that  she  go  regularly  to  see 
her. 

"It  is  a  bore  to  be  there,"  said  Hilda. 
"But  till  I  get  there  the  trip  is  lovely 
through  the  sno wed-under  country." 

She  looked  dreamily  at  the  dim  window- 
pane,  that  gave  the  tiny  bathroom  scant 
hght,  and  much  privacy. 

Babette's  restless  eyes  had  discovered  a 
photograph  of  a  young  man,  'midst  the  con- 
fusion of  dance  favors,  Japanese  paper  fans 
and  the  shower-bath. 

Hilda  laughingly  declared  that  it  was  the 
newest  picture  of  Fred  in  mufti. 

80 


-^'■ft^i 


.■Ts^.r™  ■'".  T-r™*^ftn»  -.;i  ,.«"_../<'"  . . '  — r">--  z-— ;:Vi>*  ?•"■•- •'■^'•■-'.v>>'r':v^J*'^.--'*r.^'^rf^*s^*^^  ,    -   ■  ■'    r"»,73c:',T 


Bahette  BomberUng 


Babette  took  it  in  her  hand  and  gazed 
upon  the  strange  man  with  astonishment. 
She  said  that  she  would  scarce  recognize 
Hilda's  brother  without  his  imiform,  but 
that  he  was  probably  not  coming  back  for 
some  time? 

Hilda  was  trying  to  close  her  grip.  The 
question  was  lost  in  the  rattle,  and  exertion. 

So  Babette  had  to  go  again  without 
having  discovered  anything. 

Fonnerly,  when  Babette  had  had  any 
surprises  for  her  parents,  her  cousin  Paul 
had  always  been  her  confidant.  She  could 
keep  no  secrets  from  him.  He  had  even 
been  informed  that, great  actors  eat  onions, 
and  are  consequently  not  worth  any  extra- 
ordinary esteem. 

Possibly  she  might  catch  some  advice 
from  him  now,  by  artifice?  Possibly  she 
might  talk  with  him  without  giving  herself 
away? 

When  Bomberling  sent  a  'phone  message, 
saying  he  would  not  be  able  to  get  home  till 
just  before  dinner  tonight,  she  decided  to 
call  for  her  father  at  his  office.    There  she 

81 


■■.|'r.  J.  ^.,!-  ■';'«J5JWfSWvT'T 


Bahette  Bomberling 


could  surely  manage  a  short  talk  with  Paul. 

But  first  she  must  go  skating.  Sunny 
weather  with  a  sharp  frost  in  the  air. 

Herman's  friend  was  waiting  for  her. 
He  had  not  only  a  remarkable  memory  for 
jokes  and  riddles,  but  was  continually 
worrying  about  improving  the  economic 
condition  of  the  universe.  He  was  disgust- 
ed with  the  state,  the  church,  marriage,  com- 
merce and  whatever  else  there  is.  He  was 
studying  national  economy,  and  intended 
to  throw  over  all  the  decayed  institutions  of 
the  world  in  a  few  years. 

But  even  this  did  not  fully  content  him. 
He  desired  the  sympathy  of  Babette's 
warm  little  heart. 

Bahette  listened  to  him,  slightly  inatten- 
tive, for  she  was  thinking  of  Freddy,  and 
more  of  her  coming  talk  with  Paul. 

Finally,  when  the  thorough  economist 
began  on  the  army,  he  caught  her  entire 
attention. 

He  reckoned  for  Bahette,  with  statistics, 
how  many  children  one  had  to  raise  for 
every  cannon.  He  was  for  complete  de- 
mobilization. 

82 


fOt^^-VfTiip'^^^^  ■'■'---   •■-';-J"5c-i«?  -' S-   •;   i  ,»yTr,j^.r5,yv-,-tj^  -F^^,^^f7Ti<<3]pi^S|;^i:;n^S?<™?w^ 


Bahette  BomherUng 


"Away  with  them,"  said  he. 

He  was  so  wonderfully  manly.  Babette 
got  the  impression  that  all  soldiers  had  al- 
ready been  shoved  oflF  this  round,  smooth 
globe — Fred  too.  If  this  was  necessary  for 
world  betterment,  Babette  would  resign 
herself  to  it. 

A  long  whistle  shrilled  from  some  factory 
smoke-stack.  Babette  loosened  her  skates 
and  said  good-bye. 

Herman's  friend  held  her  hand  firmly 
and  said  that  he  had  been  wanting  to  ask 
her  all  afternoon  if  she  felt  herself  suffi- 
ciently sublime  to  enter  a  free-love  mar- 
riage. She  was  actually  morally  obliged, 
for  there  was  someone  who  scorned  every- 
thing else,  and  could  only  love  her. 

Babette  tried  to  free  her  hand,  but  she 
did  not  succeed. 

"You  have  the  moral  obligation,  Ba- 
bette," the  national  economist  reiterated. 
"The  M.  O.,  pray  do  not  forget  that.  I 
shall  leave  you  time  to  think  it  over." 

He  squeezed  Babette's  hand,  which  was 
stiff  with  the  cold,  until  it  hurt.    Then  he 

88 


■  1 
)  * 


■'JTs-./.Tgi^WHri^ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


freed  it  with  a  fling,  to  express  his  earnest- 
ness. 

Babette  ran  up  the  narrow  boardwalk 
that  connected  the  smooth  ice  with  the  firm 
earth. 

A  fine  fog  in  the  streets  made  the  hghts 
dance  as  in  a  fantasy.  Motors  and  people 
were  mysteriously  veiled.  The  noise  of  the 
fading  day  dampened  down  to  a  buzzing 
rumble. 

Babs  sat  in  an  auto.  All  about  her  purred 
and  buzzed  "M.  O.,"  "M.  O." 

She  began  to  realize  that  it  was  the  moral 
obUgations  that  make  life  so  complicated. 

Many  dancing  balls  of  light  indicated 
Bomberling's  factory  in  the  haze.  Babette 
stepped  into  the  show  rooms,  which  took  up 
the  front  of  the  long  stretch  of  buildings. 

The  sharp  odor  of  all  the  wood,  recalled 
forests  and  soil. 

Her  father  was  not  there,  but  two  gentle- 
men stood  near  the  door,  in  front  of  a  mag- 
nificent coffin.  Their  heads  crowned  with 
high  silk  hats  were  tilted  reflectively. 

"A  lot  of  money  for  such  a  thing," 
whispered  the  one.     "But  considering  that 

84 


i^^wi^m^j''^'-.- ■■'■•-  '-"^  v'-7^'^rt?'=*f??^^''i?s?wpr^^ 


Bahette  Bomberling 


he  allowed  himself  so  little  during  his 
lifetime " 

The  other  nodded. 

"Let  us  take  the  larger  one,"  he  sighed. 

They  turned  to  look  for  the  salesman, 
who  was  whispering  with  a  slender  lady. 
In  consideration  of  the  sadness  of  the  case, 
she  wanted  a  shght  reduction  in  the  price, 
but  he  assured  her  that  all  prices  were  al- 
ready reckoned  for  sad  circumstances.  Only 
in  the  sale  of  a  half-dozen  could  they  allow 
a  slight  reduction. 

Now  he  recognized  Bahette.  With  a  re- 
spectful bow,  he  said  that  her  father  was  in 
his  office.  Then  he  hurried  over  to  the  wait- 
ing gentlemen. 

Bomberling  was  not  alone.  Bahette 
stopped  in  the  httle  waiting  room.  She 
heard  voices  beyond  the  curtain,  distinctly. 

It  was  a  dull  conversation.  An  old  gentle- 
man was  inquiring  about  the  expenses  of  a 
first-class  funeral,  in  order  that  he  might 
make  proper  allowances  in  his  will. 

Her  father  was  advising  cremation,  and 
reckoned  for  him  how  much  more  quickly 
everything  is  over  then. 

85 


F>f?Wl^' ?!'''>•-■-•    I'-v.;  ■>.■..•■•■:'•>;:••---•■.  >--T.  ,.  ...  ■       ...   ..-,      .-f  :—■''■  ■    -\    ;--'■>,    '''^.      >]   ^    ■•■-■,•'■  ''-^^r^iiW 


Babette  BomberUng 


The  visitor  declared  he  was  too  old  for 
new  fashions,  that  he  was  not  in  a  hurry  any- 
way. He  giggled,  and  Bomberling's  loud 
laugh  rang  out. 

Then  only  the  mumbling  of  figures  was 
to  be  heard.  The  old  man  wanted  every- 
thing explained,  to  the  minutest  detail.  He 
had  nothing  else  to  do.  This  liftle  diversion 
was  pleasant  to  him. 

Babette  got  impatient.  She  wondered 
where  Paul  might  be?  She  sneaked  out  on 
tiptoe. 

When  she  entered  the  big  showroom 
diffidently,  a  door  opened  at  the  opposite 
side  and  Paul  appeared. 

Babette  hurried  towards  him  through  the 
narrow  passage  left  by  the  many  rows  of 
coffins. 

"Whew  I"  said  she,  "all  these  awful 
things.  Do  you  know  that  people  die 
when  they  are  young,  too?  But  when  they 
are  old,  then  they  have  to.  I  don't  want  to 
grow  old.** 

She  clung  to  PauVs  arm  nervously. 
"Come  out  of  here,"  she  whispered. 

86 


Babette  BomherUng 


At  the  moment  Paul  could  think  of  no 
nicer  spot  in  the  world.  He  said  it  was  only 
the  twihght  that  made  the  place  a  bit  grue- 
some, and  switched  on  all  the  electric  lights. 
The  black  ebony  reflected  Babette  from  all 
sides.  Paul  asked  whether  Babette  had  any- 
thing special  to  tell  him. 

She  said  she  had  only  come  to  call  for  her 
father,  whom  she  had  not  seen  all  day. 

Then  she  was  silent. 

It  is  not  easy  to  find  the  right  words, 
when  one  wants  to  avoid  a  particular  topic. 

But  finally  they  got  a-chattering  anyway. 

They  sat  on  opposite  comers  of  the 
splendrous  tomb  of  state,  smiUng  at  each 
other. 

Paul  asked  if  Babette  had  a  skating  com- 
panion. 

Babette  said  that  occasionally  a  friend  of 
Herman's  skated  beside  her.  And  then  she 
asked  whether  one  was  morally  obliged  to 
love  someone  in  whom  one  infused  love  in- 
voluntarily? 

Paul  stared  at  her.  This  was  not  an 
easy  question  to  answer.  He  asked  whether 
she  were  thinking  of  any  particular  person, 

87 


Babette  Bomherling 


stooping  the  while  to  examine  some  carving 
closely. 

Babette  said  that  she  was  only  asking  out 
of  general  interest  in  the  subject.  Paul 
looked  up  again,  and  said  that  one  could 
only  decide  such  obligations  from  case  to 
case. 

And  then  he  asked  if  she  was  still  seeing 
Hilda's  brother  frequently. 

Babette  turned  up  her  nose  at  this  and 
said  he  had  left  long  ago.  But  what  did 
Paul  think  of  engagements?  Did  he  think 
it  very  despicable  to  call  them  off  after  a 
short  time,  if  one  could  not  stand  the  other? 

Paul  laughed  and  said  that  in  such  cases 
it  might  be  better  not  to  have  become  en- 
gaged in  the  first  place. 

But  Babette  lost  her  temper  there. 

"You  always  talk  so  wisely  and  with  such 
a  superior  air,"  she  cried,  "as  thought  you 
could  never  make  a  mistake." 

Suddenly  two  tears  rolled  down  her 
cheeks.    Paul  was  alarmed. 

"  Is  it  the  old  attorney?"  he  asked  cau- 
tiously. 

Babette  had  to  laugh  at  that  again. 

88 


i^^iiiA.. 


ffw!fS'^r^^''T7^'^^!^^^^  -  ^  ^^  V^f^y^i^"-^  r 


"T*  '  :-^yrt,^7fKf 


Babette  Bomherling 


"You  are  too  stupid,"  she  said,  and  slid 
down-  from  the  high  tomb. 

"I  was  only  speaking  in  general." 
Paul  gave  her  a  probing  look. 

Then  he  said,  slowly  picking  his  words — 
that  he  too,  speaking  purely  theoretically  of 
course,  always  considered  it  more  practical 
if  a  woman  never  took  a  decisive  step,  with- 
out consulting  her  best  male  friend.  And 
that  engagements,  where  one  could  not 
stand  the  other,  should  be  broken  without 
consideration. 

That  was  Paul's  honest  opinion.  But 
candidness  and  cunning  are  often  hard  to 
separate,  and  Paul  could  not  go  more  into 
detail,  for  BomberHng  disturbed  the  con- 
versation here. 

After  he  had  escorted  his  caller  to  the 
door  and  invited  the  two  gentlemen  to 
honor  him  again,  he  had  learned  from  the 
head  salesman  that  Miss  Bomherling  had 
come.  Then  he  had  gone  in  search  of  his 
Babette. 

He  tucked  her  arm  under  his,  and  asked 
if  she  had  really  only  come  to  fetch  her  old 

89 


■  '.  Y  'Wi  ■■  *JP'  ■  -->^.;?vr<v^.w:;'w*?'w-^,:>/i'  ,.-^5r  ''^'y'^^lT3!«p!*'^>f|;^,^7y  ■ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


father,  or  whether  she  was  having  some 
secrets  with  Paul  again. 

Paul  and  Babette  laughed  delightedly  at 
this. 

They  went  into  the  office. 

While  her  father  signed  some  letters,  Ba- 
bette admired  a  typewriter  that  had  just 
arrived,  all  new  and  shining.  She  played 
with  it  and  declared,  if  the  ice  were  not  so 
good  it  would  be  fun  to  sit  here  and  earn 
money. 

Paul  offered  to  teach  her,  and  her  father 
cried  he  would  engage  her  the  minute  she 
had  learnt  it. 

Babette  was  enraptured  with  this  n«w 
idea.  She  would  come  as  soon  as  thaw  set 
in.  Absolutely.  For  reassurance  she  struck 
her  red-silk  blouse,  but  there  the  ^  fifteen 
letters  of  Lieutenant  Wagner  crackled, 
with  their  sum  total  of  fifteen  thousand 
kisses.  Babette  shrank  together  and  became 
silent. 

Paul  said  that  she  was  too  reckless  with 
her  promises.  That  he  could  see  she  was  al- 
ready regretting  everything. 

90 


WfB'5P^^^^?^^Kw'7!?iWw,^?T>^^^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


Bomberling  slammed  down  the  cover  of 
his  ink-well,  and  declared  that  every  day  has 
its  own  problem.  They  should  talk  about 
it  when  the  ice  had  melted. 

A  bit  later,  father  and  daughter  had  rid- 
den off. 

Paul  returned  to  the  showrooms.  The 
fragrance  of  flowers  was  about  the  high 
tomb.  It  was  really  a  pretty  spot.  He  sat 
on  the  side  where  Babette  had  swung,  and 
pulled  the  evening  paper  out  of  his  pocket. 

Reading  the  newspaper  has  a  soothing 
effect.  One  comes  in  contact  with  all  the 
chances  in  the  world.  It  seems  so  simple  to 
snatch  up  one  of  these  strings  of  fortune. 

When  Bomberling  and  Babette  came 
home,  Anna  had  not  yet  arrived. 

Herman,  sitting  in  his  room,  called  from 
out  a  cloud  of  pipesmoke,  that  mother 
was  being  charitable  today. 

That  was  true.  Mrs.  Bomberling's  friend, 
the  Professor's  widow,  had  started  a  small 
club.  She  had  contributed  her  late  hus- 
band's title,  and  Mrs.  Bomberling  the  wool. 
Together  with  a  few  refined  ladies  they  sat 

91 


•r^.^TK"-    •  •■  •  ■  •■     .-  ■-         ■  ■.--.,•     --^  •     ••■•■'•-       .[•     ■•,-    •'■•■■■li'SBTO? 


Bahette  BomherUng 


and  crocheted  warm  garments  for  poor 
children. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  went  to  these  gather- 
ings extravagantly  dressed,  and  avoided 
everything  cheap,  even  in  her  conversation. 
She  told  of  the  expensive  Persian  in  her 
hall,  mentioned  the  oil-painting  by  a  re- 
nowned artist,  the  college  course  of  her  son 
and  the  Russian  cups. 

But  what  the  tongue  may  hide,  will  be 
given  away  by  the  hands,  which  no  one  can 
change. 

It  had  not  escaped  the  ladies,  that 
wealthy  Mrs.  Bomberling  could  make  up 
these  coarse  wool  things  with  remarkable 
dexterity.  One  faultless  piece  after  another 
flew  from  her  hands. 

They  had  come  to  an  understanding  with 
a  few  glances  over  the  head  of  the  busily 
occupied  lady. 

She  could  not  have  had  a  refined  up- 
bringing. 

Today  Mrs.  Bomberling  had  tried  to  be 
the  first  in  this  circle  of  neighborly  love. 
She  wanted  a  few  undisturbed  words  with 
her  dearest  friend.    The  widow  would  surely 

92 


^j»jp!"JYis7''i^?w??5?^j!y';^'j;^i^j?^^  -  *  ""  ''V-- ' w^gi^?.-, ■■^■'/•.s'^-'^t^ 


Bahette  BomberUng 


know  why,  and  how  long  her  nephew  would 
be  winter  sporting. 

When  she  entered  the  room,  however,  an- 
other lady  was  there  already.  And  they 
were  so  deeply  engrossed  in  their  talking 
that  they  did  not  hear  her  coming.  Anna 
was  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  before  her 
friend  sprang  up  and  hurried  towards  her. 
She  looked  frightened  and  asked  if  Anna 
had  been  listening  long.  She  had  just  been 
singing  her  praises. 

Then  she  introduced  the  ladies :  Baroness 
Pryczsbitzky-Ratzoska. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  bowed  and  said  that 
she  had  just  come  from  a  famous  antiqua- 
rian. She  had  bought  the  seal  of  an  Egyp- 
tian mummy  for  her  husband  for  a  Christ- 
mas gift. 

The  baroness  inquired  whether  this  had 
been  the  expressed  wish  of  Mrs.  Bomberling. 

Anna  said  that  this  was  not  the  case.  But 
that  it  was  extremely  difficult  to  find  a  suit- 
able present  for  a  man,  and  added  that  an- 
tiques were  the  newest  mode  today. 

Baroness  Pryczsbitzky-Ratzoska  agreed 
with  her  in  everything.     She  was  exceed- 

93 


.V*»r7/  •.■,"■-       ^-.'^-V     V     V'"    .     :.      .''---•      ■.>■■.■.•_;-->  ^     -^^■>-1,-^T«-?li^«^-^''f/f'     ^T;';^4;^-TK='^y  ►•'*?Y^^ 


Babette  BomberUng 


ingly  pleasant  and  agreeable.  While  her 
fingers  were  making  the  needles  fly,  Mrs. 
Bomberling  worried,  "Could  the  lady  have 
understood  von  Bomberling  in  the  intro- 
duction?'* 

Her  suspicion  was  strengthened  when 
the  baroness  asked  if  she  might  call  upon 
her  the  following  morning  at  eleven. 

Mrs.  Bomberhng  flushed  with  pleasure. 
She  asked  whether  she  would  rather  come  to 
tea  or  supper. 

But  the  lady  begged  to  be  allowed  to 
come  for  a  little  chat  at  eleven. 

When  all  the  members  were  assembled, 
and  one  could  no  longer  hear  on  the  right 
what  was  being  said  on  the  left,  Anna 
asked  about  the  attorney  and  his  trip. 

The  widow  answered  rather  ill-humored- 
ly, that  she  did  not  know  anytliing  either. 
That  her  nephew  wasn't  a  child  and  could 
do  as  he  pleased. 

No  one  could  deny  that.  And  with  that 
the  conversation  was  ended. 

Anna  should  have  enjoyed  bringing  good 
news  home.  Babette's  restlessness  had  not 
escaped  her.    It  was  evident  to  her  that  the 

94 


\  .yW'IsIT'.^WpTKPa'WWfT^^T^j' 


Bahette  BomberUng 


child   missed   this   unpleasant   old   feUow, 
love  is  so  incomprehensible. 

Hence  Anna  was  doubly  happy  to  find 
Babette  in  gay  spirits  on  her  return.  She 
sat  straight  again,  and  seemed  freer  and 
happier. 

There  was  no  mistake  about  this.  A  load 
had  been  taken  off  Babette's  heart.  Lieu- 
tenant Wagner's  letters  were  gone.  Ba- 
bette had  followed  Paul's  advice.  She  had 
broken  the  engagement.  At  least,  she  had 
tied  the  letters  together  and  placed  them  in 
an  envelope.    On  this  she  had  written: 

^'Je  ne  vous  aime  pas,  je  ne  vous  avais  pas 
aime,  je  ne  voiis  animerai  pas" 

She  had  the  impression  that  the  situation 
demanded  French.  The  words  said  much, 
said  all,  and  had  been  found  so  easily  in 
her  grammar. 

Babette  had  intended  to  send  off  the 
package  of  letters  early  the  following  morn- 
ing. The  new  envelope  that  would  come, 
should  also  be  enclosed,  unopened. 

But  none  of  us  know  what  the  morrow 
will  bring.    'When  the  morning's  letter  lay 

95 


/ 


''^^TT 


Babette  Bomherling 


in  Babette's  hand,  she  saw  that  it  was  not 
from  the  small  up-state  garrison.  It  was 
stamped  in  the  metropolis.  Freddy  must 
have  arrived. 

Babette  could  not  resist  the  temptation. 
She  opened  the  missive. 

Fred  wrote  that  he  had  come  to  surprise 
her,  but  before  that  he  had  had  to  take  care 
of  a  confidential  matter.  A  duel  over  a  man's 
honor.  And  he  lay  wounded  on  his  cot. 
Babette  should  not  write  to  him.  He 
begged  for  secrecy  and  faith. 

One  can  put  various  interpretations  on  a 
phrasing.  The  confidential  matter  that  was 
delaying  the  lieutenant,  could  be  called 
"Mucky." 

He  had  brought  her  along. 

He  had  imagined  himself  bound  to  make 
some  settlement  for  her,  before  he  bade  her 
farewell.  To  this  end  he  has  bought  her 
the  Sunday  fashion  supplements. 

They  had  studied  the  many  advertise- 
ments together.  There  was  a  lot  of  va- 
cancies that  seemed  suitable  for  "Mucky," 
and  so  "Mucky"  had  come  along  to  simplify 
the  choice. 

96 


■•<fif^i^fi>fmifmii^im''^w?'f^^ 


Babette  BomberUng 


What  a  hero,  Babette  had  thought,  as  she 
read  the  letter.  The  first  letter  from 
Freddy  that  she  really  Hked,  and  she  had 
wanted  to  bring  pain  to  such  a  man! 

She  compared  him  to  her  skating  friend. 
Days  and  years  would  pass  before  he  im- 
proved the  world.  What  was  even  good 
Paul,  who  sat  in  a  warm  studio  and  drew 
sketches  for  other  people's  coffins  in  com- 
parison to  such  a  man,  who  risked  death 
for  honor,  who  now  lay  on  a  bed  of  pain, 
alone  and  suffering! 

These  sad  thoughts  made  Babette  glow 
inwardly.  It  was  snowing.  She  resolved 
to  buy  soft,  wonderful  roses,  and  leave 
them  at  his  address  at  twihght. 

"I  am  going  out  for  some  flowers," 
she  said  trying  to  avoid  showing  her  tear- 
stained  face. 

That  was  easy  this  time,  for  Mrs.  Bom- 
berUng only  glanced  up  to  say: 

"Be  punctual  for  lunch,  my  child." 

Then  she  hustled  to  her  own  occupations. 
She  was  busy  with  her  own  plans,  which 
held  many  ambitions.  The  baroness  would 
soon  be  there.     Possibly  she  had  an  un- 

97 


■■■■^■rpa^.- 


'r^-''-iy''^^m 


Babette  BomherUng 


married  son,  or  at  least  a  nephew.  There  is 
always  some  young  man  of  marriagable 
age  in  every  proper  family. 

A  bell  sounded. 

The  maid  brought  a  card  on  her  salver, 
saying  a  lady  had  come,  wearing  a  great 
many  furs,  so  she  had  shown  her  into  the 
drawing-room.  '    \ 

Mrs.  Bomberling  took  the  card  and  said 
correctively: 

"That  is  not  a  lady,  that  is  a  baroness." 

The  girl  should  know  with  whom  she  was 
in  service. 

Then  she  hurried  out. 

A  few  words  about  the  weather  were  ex- 
changed politely.  It  was  cold.  It  snowed. 
If  it  got  warmer  the  snow  would  surely 
melt. 

With  such  words  we  thaw  ourselves.  The 
baroness  opened  her  furs. 

She  said  it  was  not  pleasant  to  talk  of 
oneself,  and  yet  it  might  interest  Mrs. 
Bomberling  that  she  was  not  only  a  baron- 
ess, but  that  she  had  a  profession  too.  A 
beautiful  and  praiseworthy  profession,  that 

98 


^ 


■T!^Wt^^^^^!^  7:-^  ■"''^^/'^^^^^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


had  been  practiced  by  the  gods  themselves 
in  the  olden  times. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  did  not  miderstand. 

She  excused  herself,  saying  that  in  the 
school  she  had  attended,  it  had  just  been 
the  old  gods  who  had  had  a  very  poor 
pedagogic  representative.;  She  had  been 
able  to  retain  very  little  of  it. 

The  baroness  had  to  come  to  the  point. 

Her  eyes  cast  on  the  mink  muflP,  she  ex- 
plained that  she  played  the  part  of  cupid  in 
society.  That  marriages  are  made  in 
heaven,  but  that  she  arranged  them. 

"Nol"  said  Mrs.  Bomberling  in  open  ad- 
miration. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  the  baroness,  now 
quicker  and  surer,  "I  have  a  select  assort- 
ment. Innocently  divofced  men,  widowers, 
eligible  officials,  doctors,  sportsmen  and 
cultured  merchants  with  high  and  vast  in- 
comes in  all  ages  from  26  to  42,  always 
stand  at  my  disposal." 

She  took  a  breath  in  order  to  be  able  to 
add,  that  she  had  established  herself  in  1896. 

Mrs.  Bomberhng  smiled  politely  in 
baffled  admiration,  for  it  was  not  evident  to 

99 


■■>-:j''T.::-s'^ 


Babette  BomherUng 


her  how  one  could  establish  oneself.  A  short 
thoughtful  pause  ensued. 

And  yet  the  establishing  of  the  baroness 
had  been  simpler  than  many  another  begin- 
ning. 

We  are  ennobled  by  our  deeds.  She  had 
begun  with  this  principle.  An  order  for  two 
thousand  visiting-cards  had  raised  her  to  her 
title.  They  had  become  her  stock  in  trade. 
Today  the  cards  were  engraved.  She  had 
advanced. 

And  yet  as  the  Baroness  Pryczsbitzky- 
Ratzoska  sat  before  Mrs.  Bomberling,  her 
withered  face  thickly  powdered,  the  pompous 
bill-board  of  mink  hiding  a  shabby  velvet 
dress,  and  the  whiff  of  cheap  scent  about  her, 
she  did  not  appear  to  be  made  happy  by 
this  continual  rushing  about,  on  her  divine 
mission.  Perhaps  she  might  have  renounced 
her  rank  and  the  success  of  all  the  mar- 
riages if  she  had  succeeded  in  one — ^her  own. 
If  Pryczsbitzky  had  not  vanished,  leaving 
her  nothing  but  his  sneeze  of  a  name!  It 
was  really  remarkable  to  think  how  much 
she  had  made  of  it.  She  may  have  been 
thinking  something  of  the  sort,  in  this  quiet 

100 


WrOTTJ3S!^5?^>TTS»l  ^T'.Mi---    fi.-r:^--'     ,jifi?-.,;?:;~;f'fT.7'-fr^'W7^P5F5^^ 


Babette  BomherUng 


moment,  while  both  women  were  nibbling  at 
caviar  on  toast. 

The  elastic  laugh  had  slipped  off  her  face, 
and  left  it  helpless,  tired  and  old,  as  she 
said : 

"We  all  want  to  live,  before  we  die." 

Then,  recollecting  herself,  she  quickly  re- 
sumed her  smile,  and  said  that  a  certain 
nobleman  of  her  acquaintance  seemed  to  be 
born  to  become  a  beloved  member  of  the 
house  of  Bomberling. 

"Titled?"  Mrs.  Bomberling  ahnost 
shrieked  the  word. 

The  baroness  said  that  she  knew  from 
their  mutual  friend  that  the  Bomberlings 
had  their  subscription  /seats  at  the  opera 
tonight.  If  it  were  certain  that  Mrs. 
Bomberling  and  her  husband  would  attend 
the  performance,  the  gentleman  she  was 
thinking  of  would  procure  a  seat  to  see  Mrs. 
Bomberling. 

"Me?"  asked  Mrs.  Bombering  reddening. 

"Yes,"  said  the  baroness.  "Young  men 
vary  so  nowadays.  Some  want  to  see  the 
daughter,  others  the  mother.  The  young 
man  in  question  today  wants  to  see  the 

101 


-•'■''     J"-  ■}:;"^v^-  E^V^T'V^ 


Buhette  Bomherling 


mother  only.    Otherwise  it  is  too  much  like 
bu5dng  a  cat  in  a  bag." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  tried  to  catch  her  re- 
flection in  the  cup  cabinet.  She  was  em- 
barrassed. If  it  had  not  been  the  wish  of 
an  aristocrat,  she  would  most  emphatically 
have  said  "NO." 

However,  after  some  pros  and  cons,  she 
could  not  resist  the  proposition. 

The  baroness  asked  politely  for  the  loca- 
tion of  the  seats,  and  quickly  noted  the  row 
and  numbers  in  a  tiny  book.  She  would 
telegraph  them  to  the  young  man  im- 
mediately. 

She  would  charge  this  to  Mrs.  Bomber- 
ling  in  the  meanwhile,  also  the  taxi  which 
had  brought  her,  for,  as  she  may  have  ob- 
served, it  had  unfortunately  been  snowing. 

She  stood  up  and  began  to  close  her  furs. 

"What  are  they  playing?"  she  asked. 
"Some  great  work  of  Verdi  or  Wagner?" 

Mrs.  Bomberling  said  some  light  modern 
thing  would  be  given. 

"That  is  splendid,"  cried  the  baroness, 
enthusiastically.    "It  is  much  easier  to  get 

102 


•^}lff^fS^v^^;^'■y■';'^7^^^^■<     ■     '.     '^-^  -TiS^r 


Babette  Bomberling 


the  men  to  come  to  these.     The  effect  on 
their  emotions  is  better  too." 

She  would  speak  to  the  young  nobleman 
after  the  performance,  and  bring  the 
answer  tomorrow  forenoon.  She  was  in  a 
great  hurry  now.    Business  was  urgent. 

"Before  Christmas  every  minute  of  mine 
is  precious,"  she  explained  smiling.  'They 
all  want  to  announce  their  engagement 
Christmas  morning.  Yes,  yes,  people  are 
a  queer  lot." 

The  narrow  kid  gloves  encased  the  fat 
hands  fairly  well  now. 

The  door  came  to  with  a  bang  after 
the  Baroness  Pryczsbitzky-Ratzoska. 

Only  the  mixed  odor  of  a  perfumery  shop 
still  hung  over  the  English  castle  furniture, 
each  piece  of  which  stood  perfectly  in  its 
prescribed  spot. 

Beyond  the  windows  lay  twilight.  It 
softened  sharp  contrasts  kindly,  veiled 
coarse  outlines,  shaded  hard  lines. 

But  in  the  bedroom  where  Mrs.  Bomber- 
ling  was  getting  ready  for  the  opera  a 
merciless  light  shone.  Anna  stood  before 
the  bright  mirror.    It  was  polished,  and  yet 

103 


Babette  Bomherling 


candid,  as  a  well-brought-up  person  would 
never  be. 

Anna  sighed.  She  thought  she  might 
perhaps  have  done  more  for  her  appearance 
this  winter  than  she  had. 

With  a  harassed  expression  she  got  out 
her  jewelry  and  began  to  polish  it.  This 
should  at  least  look  new  and  shiny. 

She  had  not  adorned  herself  with  such 
precision  since  her  wedding  day. 

Should  she  risk  putting  on  a  bit  of  rouge? 
Perhaps  the  man  in  question  was  near- 
sighted. 

A  tap  at  the  door  frightened  Anna,  and 
put  a  flush  in  her  cheeks  naturally. 

It  was  only  Babette,  about  to  start  with 
her  roses.  She  mumbled  something  about 
purchasing  some  notes  and  gave  her  mother 
a  tender  kiss.  Anna  responded  and  gently 
caressing  Babette's  hair,  resolved  to  pull  her 
laces  still  tighter.  The  happiness  of  her 
only  daughter  was  worth  this  small  sacrifice. 
Courageously  she  turned  to  her  mirror 
again. 

The  while  Babette  crossed  the  big  city 
in  the  dusk.    At  the  address  at  the  head  of 


104 


?!7?^-T^^*T^'?,^i^^^^^^'rv*«'^^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


the  letter  Babette  'climbed  up  the  stairs. 
All  the  doors  of  the  flats  had  cards  with 
strange  names  in  the  little  tin  frames. 
Finally  "Frederick  Wagner"  at  the  very  top. 

Babette  stopped  irresolute.  She  did  not 
seem  to  have  the  courage  to  touch  the  shabby 
bell. 

She  stepped  back  with  terror.  Someone 
had  screamed  beyond  the  door.  Was  her 
hero  dying?  No — ^there  was  singing. 

The  song  became  noisier  and  more  clear. 
She  could  catch  the  words  now.  The  voice 
of  a  man  yelling: 

"On  the  balcony  of  Colvmibine 
Two  sat  and  ate  a  philipine, 
'Pine,  'pine,  'pine." 

Many  other  voices  chimed  in  on  "  'pine, 
'pine,  'pine." 

Babette  was  horrified.  How  could  any- 
one make  such  a  racket  in  a  flat  where  a 
man  lay  sick,  a  wounded  hero? 

She  rang  energetically.    No  one  opened. 

"  'Pine,  'pine,  'pine,"  was  roared  in  con- 
stant iteration. 

Babette  had  to  ring  repeatedly,  till  finally 
steps  dragged  nearer. 

105 


^'T^.y- 


Babette  BotnherUng 


The  door  opened  a  little.  A  rotund 
woman  had  lowered  the  latch  with  her 
elbow.  Her  hands  were  fully  occupied  with 
a  big  cup  brimful  of  coffee  and  a  large  piece 
of  cake.  Confused,  Babette  asked  if  Lieu- 
tenant Wagner  roomed  here.  Grinning,  the 
woman  nodded  toward  the  noise  in  back  of 
her,  and  said: 

"Rather  1" 

"How  is  he?  Is  he  resting?  Or  sleeping?" 
whispered  Babette. 

The  woman  grinned  more  broadly  at  this 
witticism,  and  said  if  he  kept  on  guzzling  at 
this  rate,  he  would  soon  be. 

But  she  should  come  in  now.  She  did  not 
intend  to  heat  the  stairway.  She  was 
probably  another  cousin  of  the  Lieutenant's. 
Two  were  there  already.  But  then,  a  birth- 
day comes  but  once  a  year. 

"  'Pine,  'pine,  'pine,"  sounded  from  the 
end  of  the  hall. 

Babette  had  not  realized  that  Freddy 
was  supposed  to  be  celebrating  his  birth- 
day. She  knew  that  he  was  born  in  May. 
She  had  thought  just  this  so  charming  of 
him. 

106 


-'Ilf^1©*>''^^^^T7^  -  /v^.    -  ,~  ^'V*!*- ■''T.rv  V  TT^  >rv'   "  •  '   5  ■  ■•  '     '■-■  •^'  .-■  ♦  V  ;~'     .v^-.  ■  5    .  .■  f^: 


Babette  Bomberling 


A  door  was  torn*  open  down  the  narrow 
hall.     A  chorus  of  hoarse  voices  yowled: 

"Booze,  booze.  Get  a  gait  on,  old  lady. 
Get  another  bottle." 

The  fat  woman  revolved  slowly  with  her 
cake  and  coflFee. 

"Take  your  time,"  she  grumbled. 

But  when  she  looked  back  the  strange  girl 
was  gone.  She  pushed  the  door  with  her 
foot,  and  forgot  the  incident. 

Babette  fled,  choking  with  fear  and  dis- 
gust. At  home  she  found  her  parents  had 
left. 

Herman  was  not  there  either.  She  was 
all  alone. 

She  locked  her  door  and  took  the  red 
roses  out  of  their  wrapping.  Babette  re- 
moved a  few  leaves  that  the  sharp  cold  had 
blackened,  cut  the  stems  carefully,  and  set 
them  in  lukewarm  salt  water.  The  while 
lukewarm,  salt  water  was  dripping  into 
their  chalices. 

It  was  very  quiet  in  the  room,  only  the 
clock  ticked  on. 

When  Fate  means  best,  we  are  most 
angry  at  it. 

107 


^•"^'■■•■■^     "    •-  ,' -^    ■':       ■■      ■■••        '■    '  ,     V.-^*^'  ■"    '•       '     -J    ]:.     ■^■r^---^'^:: 


■'.'3M' 


Bahette  Bomherling 


But  eventually  Babette  had  fallen  asleep 
— as  peacefully  as  one  sleeps  at  seventeen, 
when  one  has  cried  one's  heart  out. 

It  was  late  when  some  taps  on  her  door 
awoke  her. 

Herman's  voice  talking  French,  which 
he  always  did  when  he  wanted  to  teU  his 
sister  something  their  servants  or  parents 
were  not  meant  to  hear. 

Babette  sprang  up  in  fright.  This  French 
brought  everything  back. 

" Je  ne  vous  aime  pas,  je  ne — —" 

"Do  you  hear  me,  or  are  you  sleeping, 
Babs?"  asked  Herman  raising  his  voice. 
"I  would  be  awfully  obliged  si  tu  pouvais 
me  donner  vingt  marks." 

Babs  said: 

^'Ovi,  I'll  give  them  to  you  at  breakfast. 

"Tu  es  une  ange,  ma  chbre"  cried  Her- 
man and  gave  an  assuring  bang  on  the  door 
with  his  strong  fist. 

The  crackling  money  prevented  Herman 
noticing  his  chere  soeur's  tear-stained  eyes. 
We  don't  look  unnecessarily  long  into  the 
eyes  of  those  from  whom  we  receive  money. 

108 


"•RRi^«j!B!;;M;T?ir?3T'S)!f' •'    •:■  . ' i^?'v"  . - •"™--~"-*>''^r'5r»^y;r" " 7^T^«r»T~>T="if^'?^^'>y  * ■■'  -    ■  • '  ■>.:;■  ,-?V7Srr-y-i>r^ 


Bahette  Bomberling 


He  slipped  the  notes  into  his  pocket,  lit 
a  cigarette  and  said: 

"As  soon  as  I  have  discovered  an  instru- 
ment for  perpetual  >motion,  you'll  get  it 
back  with  interest.     So-long." 

Then  he  left.  Liane  Violetta  should  have 
flowers  and  candy  today.  The  gloomy 
winter  days  depressed  her  so. 

Babette  stayed  at  the  breakfast  table 
The  room  wasn't  hght  or  dark.  Napoleon, 
his  eyes  half -closed,  squatted  on  his  perch 
and  didn't  move.  There  was  a  fragrance  of 
coflPee  and  pine  and  salami. 

Babs  almost  wished  her  mother  would 
come  and  cross-question  her.  Why  she 
was  so  sad,  why  she  had  cried.  That  she 
would  take  her  in  her  arms  and  hold  her 
till  Babette  had  told  her  everything,  and 
weeping,  had  confessed  to  her  that  all  men 
were  bad,  and  that  she  would  always  stay 
with  her  beloved  mother. 

She  longed  so  for  someone  upon  whom 
she  could  pour  her  entire  aflFection. 

Perhaps  this  moment  could  have  made 
mother  and  daughter  friends  for  life. 

If  only  Anna  had  not  been  so  entirely 

109 


•Z^VVfJ' 


Bahette  BomherUng 


absorbed  with  Babette's  welfare,  that  she 
had  no  glance  left  for  her. 

She  counted  the  minutes  till  the  baron- 
ess would  appear.  And  with  her  the 
answer,  the  answer  of  an  aristocrat. 

She  was  as  agitated  as  though  she  herself 
were  to  become  engaged. 

She  would  not  forget  the  previous  even- 
ing as  long  as  she  lived.  She  was  certain 
of  that. 

The  entire  house  had  seemed  filled  with 
future  sons-in-law.  Every  man  had  gazed 
on  her  severely,  smilingly,  critically,  scorn- 
fully— from  narrow  eyes  and  round  ones — 
from  glasses,  goggles  and  monocles;  looks 
had  bored  through  her. 

She  had  not  dared  to  move,  not  to  clear 
her  throat  or  to  cough,  scarcely  to  breathe, 
but  she  had  smiled.    Smiled  continuously. 

How  tightly  she  had  been  laced! 

She  had  every  right  to  a  favorable 
answer.  Her  impatience  was  excusable. 
She  ran  from  room  to  room  nervously. 
Looked  for  her  keys,  couldn't  find  her  lorg- 
nette, got  angry  about  a  stray  dust-cloth. 

Babette  had  been  able  to  think  of  nothing 

110 


^rP3spr"3V_5^flv<?«*5r-f^j^»'tr?*^  ■■:7rj*iir.o '.■■■■"■  :-"■-" --T;=!  '^^^rr^*'    .^'^''^^.''f^^^-^^ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


better  than  to  try  the  morning  ice  for  a 
change. 

To  her  surprise  she  found  her  brother 
there. 

Herman  also  sought  Nature  for  consola- 
tion. 

Liane  had  received  the  flowers  and  choc- 
olates, but  not  him.  Every  class  has  its 
code.  She  had  sent  him  a  message  that 
people  do  not  receive  in  the  morning  when 
an  afternoon  appointment  has  been  made. 
There  must  be  order. 

Herman  had  to  admit  that.  There  must 
be  order,  otherwise  why  should  he  study 
law? 

But  if  he  could  only  have  gotten  another 
glimpse  at  the  new  galoshes  next  the  um- 
brella-stand. They  had  seemed  so  remark- 
ably large.  As  though  they  fitted  men's 
shoes. 

Silently  brother  and  sister  skated  side  by 
side. 

After  a  while  the  economist  appeared 
over  the  smooth  surface.  With  a  graceful 
arabesque  he  swooped  upon  them. 

Ill 


'^■'%'j^mtfjt^ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


Soon  he  was  talking  about  the  M.  O. — of 
moral  obligations  and  free  love.  He  spoke 
only  in  general,  much  as  we  talk  about  life's 
problems,  when  we  are  about  to  better  the 
world. 

But  Herman  put  a  stop  to  this.  He  said 
these  were  no  subjects  for  sisters.  He 
could  dig  up  this  sort  of  cleverness  with  his 
lady  friends  but  not  in  the  presence  of 
Babette. 

The  national  economist  said  he  counted 
Babette  among  his  friends. 

Whereupon  Herman  gave  him  a  blow. 

His  friend  returned  it. 

Ice  is  more  slippery  than  the  usual  floor 
of  life.  Now  both  were  rolling  on  the 
frozen  water,  in  a  tight  grip. 

When  they  got  up  again  their  friendship 
had  suffered  a  chill.  They  separated  with- 
out a  word  of  parting. 

Babette  helped  brush  the  snow  off  Her- 
man's coat,  then  they  left  the  ice. 

"Now  you  know  you  have  a'  brother, 
don't  you?"  said  Herman,  most  satisfied. 

He  stopped  at  the  next  confiserie. 

112 


!(5|[jjo^!»7^;jtT'tt'.  jfw^;!^■?!^T  'Wi'Ft'*<-?^7^-.'*'J?-f'WTSWf?g5!'7r!??7(rr^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


"You  might  stand  me  a  hot  chocolate," 
said  he. 

Babs  was  not  averse  to  eating  a  piece  of 
apphe  pie  with  whipped  cream. 
They  entered. 

"You  might  really  pay  this  once,"  said 
she.  "I  have  not  bought  any  Christmas 
gifts  as  yet." 

"Impossible,"  said  Herman. 

He  wanted  to  spend  on  Liane  all  he  had 
left  of  the  twenty  marks. 

For  had  he  not  just  demonstrated  that  he 
knew  definitely  what  was  due  a  sister  and 
what  was  due  a  sweetheart? 

While  the  heated  argument  was  taking 
place  on  the  ice,  Bomberhngs'  heated  rooms 
had  been  the  scene  of  a  frosty  meeting. 

The  baroness  had  been  late. 

After  she  had  inquired  politely,  if  Mrs. 
Bomherling  had  enjoyed  the  performance, 
and  whether  the  artists  had  been  in  voice,^ 
she  finally  said  the  nobleman  had  been  there 
too. 

"Where  did  he  sit?"  Mrs.  Bomherling 

118 


<'^i 


Bahette  Bomherling 


asked  breathlessly.  "There  were  so  many 
that  resembled  him." 

"Who  might  have  resembled  him,"  she 
corrected  herself,  hastily,  when  she  noticed 
the  astonished  look  of  her  visitor. 

"Yes — he  was  there — and — " 

"And?"  pressed  Anna. 

"My  dear  lady,  I  regret  to  have  to  tell 
you  the  truth. — You  are  too  corpulent  for 
the  gentleman.'* 

It  was  out.    A  deep  silence  ensued. 

The  things  we  think  silently  of  another, 
do  not  mortify. 

After  a  long  while  Mrs.  Bomberling 
brought,  with  a  deep  sigh  from  her  heaving 
bosom; 

"And  this  person  claims  to  be  of  noble 
birth?" 

The  baroness  smiled  courteously. 

"Don't  take  it  to  heart,  Mrs.  BomberHng. 
Tastes  differ  so.  You  couldn^t  imagine  how 
fastidious  the  young  men  of  today  are." 

And  she  narrated,  that  some  want  only 
ladies  without  an  appendix,  others  those 
without  parents  or  sisters,  and  many  even 
designate  exactly  how  small  the  nose  must 


^e.  114 


■7!'y^^psT;!j^^jW'S'ST^^^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


"Only  the  dowry  must  invariably  be 
large,"  she  said  offended.  "It  isn't  easy  for 
me  either,  my  dear,  believe  me." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  did  not  seem  to  hear  a 
word  of  all  this.  Wounded  vanity  was 
whistling  around  her  ears. 

She  began  to  pay  attention  only  when 
the  baroness  said: 

"I  wanted  to  make  another  proposition. 
I  have  a  five-story  houseowner,  with  a  lot 
of  real  estate." 

"Oh,  that  is  surely  an  old  man,"  inter- 
rupted Mrs.  Bomberhng,  dismissing  him — 
"In  the  piece  last  night  the  daughter,  who 
was  'way  past  her  first  youth,  got  such  an 
attractive  aviator.  Rich  and  young  and  so 
handsome  in  his  costume." 

The  baroness  conmiented  that  aviators 
are  usually  low  people,  whose  one  ambition 
is  to  rise  as  quickly  as  possible. 

"To  be  sure!  On  the  stage  it  all  looks 
lovely,"  she  added  bitterly.  "But  it's  dif- 
ferent in  life.  Here  the  imen  who  have 
really  serious  intentions,  all  have  been  run 
down  a  bit  by  life.  Why  should  they  marry 
otherwise?" 


115 


'■  ■  rv' V  ....  .    .      -      ^  -  --.    .  •  ,    -   ^.       _^  .  ,-*     .    .-- .;   .  ,vr:(n'«  (^ij^-TO^-,T 


Babette  Bomberling 


She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  sighed. 

Perhaps  she  was  thinking  of  her  Pryczs- 
bitzky.  Perhaps  she  was  put  out  that  she 
seemed  to  be  wasting  her  precious  time  here. 
And  it  so  near  Christmas  I 

"Your  daughter  is  prelty,"  she  began 
again.  "If  you  did  more  entertaining — 
but  naturally — many  can't  swallow  the 
coffins,  in  this  nervous  age.  Perhaps  you 
had  better  wait  till  Spring.  A  trip 
abroad — " 

She  stood  up  and  began  to  button  her 
cloak. 

"As  I  said,  the  landlord — a  look  at  him 
costs  nothing.  I  shall  send  him  to  you  New 
Year's  Day.  He  can  make  a  short  call  and 
bring  a  message  from  our  mutual  friend." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  didn't  say  "yes" — 
neither  did  she  say  "no." 

The  baroness  opened  her  glistening  bag 
and  took  out  a  blue  envelope,  decorated 
with  a  big  red  crest. 

"However  it  may  be,*'  she  said  "every 
year  has  its  accounting.  May  I  ask  you  to 
regulate  the  small  expenses  of  this  one?" 

11« 


Bahette  Bomberling 


Mrs.  Bomberling  opened  the  letter,  took 
her  lorgnette  and  read. 

Although  her  acquaintance  with  the 
charming  baroness  had  been  short,  the  bill 
was  long. 

The  conversations  of  yesterday  and  to- 
day were  called  consultations,  and  charged 
accordingly.  The  taxis  were  added.  Mrs. 
Bomberling  was  to  pay  for  the  ticket  of  the 
nobleman,  who  had  thought  her  too  fat.  He 
had  sat  on  a  very  good  seat. 

The  baroness  cleared  her  throat  with  em- 
phasis. Mrs.  Bomberling  became  em- 
barrassed, ceased  her  perusal,  picked  up  her 
purse  and  paid  the  sum  total. 

"It  has  been  a  great  pleasure,  au  revoir" 
said  the  baroness  and  sailed  out. 

When  Mrs.  Bomberling  sat  at  her  desk 
to  book  this  expenditure,  she  did  not  know 
what  to  call  it.  After  some  hesitation  she 
placed  the  unpleasant  sum  in  the  column, 
"Fuel." 

She  recollected  that  August  and  she  had 
met  without  cost.  She  shook  her  head  re- 
flectively while  she ;  laid  the  blotter  neatly 
between  the  pages. 

117 


Bahette  Bomherling 


She  was  forgetting  that  the  ancient  gods 
were  still  active  in  those  days.  They  could 
afford  to  be  cheap,  even  .with  enormous  dis- 
tances.   They  had  wings. 

A  snow  shoveler  sat  on  the  Bomberlings* 
house  and  threw  the  deep  snow  into  the 
area  below. 

As  it  was  a  time  job,  he  paused  now  and 
then,  in  spite  of  the  airiness  of  his  perch. 
He  would  blow  on  his  stiff  hands,  and  lean- 
ing forward  a  Httle,  would  peek  into  the 
warm  rooms  of  the  rich  folks.  The  gray 
day  had  made  most  of  them  draw  back 
their  curtains. 

Most  was  to  be  seen  at  Bomberlings'. 
They  had  turned  on  the  lights  early. 

He  could  see  a  little  canary  ruffling  his 
feathers  near  the  window.  Further  in  the 
room,  there  was  a  brightly  colored  picture 
on  the  wall ;  what  it  was  supposed  to  be  he 
couldn't  decide,  but  the  wide  gilt  frame 
told  him  it  was  a  fine  picture. 

The  table  under  the  chandelier  was  the 
prettiest  of  all.  There  a  family  sat  and  ate. 
A  fat  gentleman,  with  a  napkin  tucked  in 

118 


^R*-~ .~-v""^  !<•  ,:"■■    ■       .  ■   ■      -,''  r  --"■-■..     ■■      -■   ■     •^.  ■    -.  '^  t  -'-rf  .     vX   •f'--'^-^'2'^'- --■■•■' r''^!^^<S^--^V^!7'^^  "  ^-,  ■>■_;-.  t-*--.  -■^. ^T^ffT&T^TJvBfgsfJw^gpi! 


Bahette  Bomberling 


his  collar,  a  fat  lady,  with  a  high  blond 
hair  arrangement,  another  fat,  but  younger 
gentleman  and  a  slim  and  blond  young 
miss. 

It  was  like  a  "movie."  They  moved,  their 
mouths  clapped  open  and  shut,  nothing 
could  be  heard. 

Grinning,  he  took  up  his  shovel  again. 
The  snow  flopped  down  in  heavy  thuds. 

When  he  leaned  forward  again,  a  pretty 
maid  was  passing  a  large  platter  to  each. 
Everyone  filled  his  plate. 

"Lucky  folks!  They  might  well  be  con- 
tent—" 

But  even  from  a  roof  one  cannot  see  into 
the  hearts  of  people. 

The  only  reason  Herman  ate  was  not  to 
seem  unpleasant.  He  was  still  angry  at  the 
economist;  and  besides,  he  could  tliink  of 
nothing  but  the  large  galoshes  in  Liane*s 
entry. 

Anna  was  nervously  wondering  whether 
every  bite  she  swallowed  was  adding  to  her 
weight.  Sadly  she  looked  across  at  Ba- 
hette who  sat  so  innocently  before  her  plate 

119 


libi^. 


Babette  BomberUng 


and  did  not  guess  her  own  mother  was  an 
obstacle  to  her  happiness. 

Babs  was  not  noticing  anything,  me- 
chanically nibbling  her  food.  She  did  not 
look  up.  Now  and  then  she  passed  her  slim 
fingers  over  her  forehead,  as  though  she 
would  smooth  the  thoughts  behind  it.  She 
must  talk  to  Paul  today.  He  was  the  only 
one  who  understood  her.  She  would  work 
hke  a  man  from  now  on;  start  out  in  the 
gray  dawn  with  her  lunch  in  her  bag. 

Bomberling  chewed  noisily.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  coming  annual  inventory. 
He  was  calculating.  Sharp  Unes  crossed 
his  round,  jovial  face. 

Thus  each  was  drawing  his  own  balance, 
while  they  silently  ate  together  and  occa- 
sionally exchanged  words  unrelated  to  their 
thoughts. 

The  ring  of  the  door-bell  promised  an  in- 
terruption, but  it  was  only  Aunt  Helen. 
She  was  annoyed  that  her  relatives  were 
still  at  the  table,  although  she  could  not 
very  well  have  expected  otherwise.  She  did 
not  wish  to  disturb.  No  indeed,  she  would 
go  again  immediately.    And  then  she  was 

120 


Babette  Bomherling 


seated  between  Bomberling  and  Babette. 

The  man  on  the  roof  had  watched  all  this 
with  curiosity. 

"She  would  sweeten  no  meal,"  he 
thought,  and  better  satisfied,  he  crept  to  the 
other  side  of  the  roof. 

"Thanks,  I  have  eaten,"  said  Aunt  Helen. 

But  when  the  maid  passed  on  with  the 
meat-platter,  she  recalled  it  angrily.  While 
she  heaped  her  plate  with  everything,  she 
said: 

"Roast  beef.  You  shouldn't  eat  so  much 
beef.     You  can  surely  afford  poultry." 

"Do  you  think  poultry  is  less  fattening?" 
asked  Anna. 

"I  know  nothing  about  that,"  said  Helen, 
chewing.     "Nothing  makes  me  stout." 

After  she  had  eaten  a  while  she  turned 
to  Bomberhng  and  said  she  wanted  a  favor 
of  him. 

"Out  with  it,"  answered  August  kindly, 
drying  his  mustache  with  the  napkin. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  for  a  certificate  for 
a  coffin.  It  can  be  plain,  but  should  look 
nice  too." 


121 


'^"^:s^' 


Bahette  Bomherlirvg 


A  painful  silence.  One  was  not  supposed 
to  speak  of  coffins  at  the  BomberUngs'. 

"What  do  you  want  it  for?"  asked 
August. 

"My  servant-girl's  father  has  been  sick  so 
long.  I  want  to  give  her  this  certificate,  be- 
sides several  little  necessities,  for  Christmas." 

"I  can't  give  her  cash,"  she  added  sharply. 
"I  am  not  in  a  position  to  do  that." 

"A  jolly  substitute  for  cash,"  laughed 
Herman  merrily. 

"My,  but  that  is  an  awful  present  I"  said 
Mrs.  Bomberling  unusually  emotional,  "the 
old  man  may  get  well  again." 

"Then  he  saves  the  certificate  for  later 
on.  We  are  all  mortal.  Some  day  he'll 
need  it  well  enough." 

Although  her  mouth  could  only  smile,  her 
voice  had  become  unpleasantly  sharp. 

Bomberling,  who  loved  peace  and  quiet 
above  all,  had  taken  out  his  note-book  to 
make  out  the  desired  certificate. 

Aunt  Helen  thanked  and  hurriedly  stuck 
the  paper  into  her  black-silk  bag. 

"The  gift  of  a  coffin-  won't  make  a  person 
die  any  sooner,"  said  she.  "But  if  we  are  un- 

122 


W^' 


^*rj^*'7*"f -/ 


Babette  Bomherling 


lucky,  we  can  break  a  finger  in  the  nose — " 

Bomherling  had  risen  and  was  declaring 
that  he  had  to  return  to  his  ofiice  in  spite 
of  the  dear  guest. 

"Don't  let  me  keep  you,"  said  Aunt 
Helen.  "I'll  enjoy  staying  alone  with 
Anna." 

Anna  looked  weary.  The  forenoon  had 
been  exhausting;  she  was  used  to  a  nap. 

She  said  that  she  must  go  out  almost  im- 
mediately— Christmas  shopping. 

"Then  I'll  accompany  you,"  said  Aunt 
Helen  cheerfully,  and  sat  down  again. 

Herman  said: 

"If  I'm  not  home  in  the  evening.  Pater — 
don't  worry — examinations  coming — " 

Babs  begged  to  accompany  her  father; 
she  wanted  to  try  the  new  typewriter. 

"Is  it  thawing?"  asked  Bomherling 
astonished. 

But  Babette  had  skipped  off  to  fetch  her 
hat  and  coat. 

Various  doors  opened  and  closed  with  a 
bang. 

"I  must  tell  you  that  I  have  come  on 
Babette's   account,"    said   Aunt   Helen   as 

123 


i»f|w«5W'i' '^  * ; 


Babette  Bomberling 


soon  as  the  house  had  quieted  down.  "I 
trust  you  have  realized — ^that  she  has  reached 
a  marriageahle  age?" 

Mrs.  Bomberling  was  extraordinarily 
astonished.  She  had  not  dreamt  of  such  a 
thing. 

Aunt  Helen  remarked  how  fortunate  it 
is  that  we  have  relatives.  Mothers  are  so 
often  blind  to  their  children's  welfare. 

She  had  met  a  young  man,  wealthy, 
young  and  charming.  For  the  first  time 
she  regretted  that  she  had  no  children,  no 
daughter. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  was  silent.  People  are 
skeptical  about  ideas  emanating  from  the 
family  circle;  wonders  do  not  usually  come 
from  that  source. 

Aunt  Helen  continued: 
"A   highly   cultured    man,   understands 
every  foreign  word,  and  runs  everything 
with  steam." 

Anna  yawned,  but  asked  what  he  might 
be  driving  with  steam. 

"His  sausage  factory,  naturally,"  said 
Aunt  Helen  triumpantly.  "Founded  by  his 
father.    A  gold-mine  1" 

124 


l!^Vv'T^Vv3*?rHCs    '*?i^T7™  .-   ;  ■"* -^  '7'Kr»?i^-<  ^-ir^irv^ 


Babette  BomherUng 


"NEVER,"  said  Mrs.  Bomberling,  and 
got  up. 

It  was  time  to  go  Christmas  shopping. 

Silently  they  got  ready  and  took  the 
street-car. 

"A  sausage  factory  is  no  disgrace,"  said 
Aunt  Helen,  when  they  had  squeezed  into 
the  crowded  car. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  was  thinking  of  the 
nobleman,  and  planned  to  have  herself 
weighed  at  the  department  store. 

"You  shouldn't  crave  what  you  can't 
get."  Aunt  Helen  was  speaking  again. 
"Of  course,  you'U  want  a  title  for  her,  Uke 
some  of  your  swell  friends." 

She  laughed  loudly. 

The  car  had  gotten  speed  now,  and  the 
rattle  and  clank  on  the  frozen  pavement, 
made  all  these  intimate  revelations  totally 
indistinguishable. 

Anna  only  saw  Helen  laughing,  so  she 
smiled  politely. 

They  conversed  this  way  until  they 
reached  their  destination. 

There  was  a  dense  crowd  in  the  shop, 
pushing  as  in  a  steam-driven  sausage-ma- 

125 


-Vv  :;i*ffT«ft™!^BB»r:« 


Bdbette  Bomberling 


chine.  Mrs.  Bomberling  remarked  that 
there  were  astonishingly  many  pretty  young 
girls.  They  pushed  merrily.  Would  all 
these  get  a  husband  sooner  or  later? 

She  leaned  against  Helen,  who  was 
breaking  a  way  for  them  with  her  sharp  and 
bony  elbows.  She  cleared  her  throat  and 
said : 

"Of  course,  you  can  bring  your  new  ac- 
quaintance to  us,  if  you  care  to.  The  friends 
of  our  relations  are  our  friends  too." 

Paul  had  just  concluded  that  thaw  could 
not  be  expected  yet — ^when  Babette  stood 
before  him. 

Bomberling,  who  followed,  hurriedly 
slipped  off  his  fur  coat,  saying:  "She  wants 
to  learn  typewriting — take  her  in  hand,  I'm 
busy." 

A  large  order  had  come.  A  mining  catas- 
trophe. The  price  had  not  yet  been  agreed 
on. 

Bomberling  was  already  at  the  telephone. 
"Once  our  customer,  always  our  customer," 
he  yelled. 

Babette  drew  Paul  into  the  second  room 
where  the  typewriters  were.     Paul  had  his 

126 


!^!sr7??^^K7^  f^^'v^  '  "-"•  -^^~  r^?^^f'r.™>'^y/.' ~i^  v.-i^^  ■'■  ^-^tj ■  ^^swjiww. ' ' ' ■  ^'-sw^; 


Babette  Bomberling 


hand  at  his  neck — "You  must  pardon,  Ba- 
bette my  tie  has — " 

Babs  laughed,  "Who  would  notice  such 
things  here?"  she  comforted  him. 

And  then  she  said  that  she  had  come  on 
his  account.  With  a  great  and  solemn  plea, 
he  must  speak  with  papa  and  mamma.  She 
lacked  the  courage. 

"Babette!"  cried  Paul.  It  seemed  as 
though  he  would  seize  her,  but  he  only  took 
hold  of  the  nearest  chair-back. 

"Yes,"  said  Babs,  "I  can't  stand  it  at 
home.  Breakfast,  lunch,  dinner  that  is  the 
routine.  Tuesday  fish,  Wednesday  roast 
beef  and  Sunday  chicken.  I  can  predict 
for  years  ahead.    I  am  stifling  under  it  all." 

"And  I — actually  I — "  said  Paul. 

"Yes,  you  must  tell  jthem,  for  I  shall 
never  marry.    I  know  it  now." 

"Oh— Oh— "  said  Paul.  He  released  the 
chair.    "But  what  do  you  want?" 

"To  work.  Since  Herman  won't,  I  should 
like  to  take  over  papa's  factory  later  on." 

Paul  smiled.  As  she  stood  before  him, 
slender,  fair  and  charming, — she,  the  femi- 

127 


'F:<T?~-, '■  '  ■■'  ■  '  ■■  J   • 


Bahette  Bomherling 


nine  head  of  a  coffin  factory  I — ^he  burst  out 
laughing. 

Babs  blushed  violently. 

She  said  there  was  nothing  to  laugh  at. 

Since  centuries  she  had  been  suppressed. 
That  was  over  now. 

Paul  said  that  she  did  not  show  the  cen- 
turies. 

"You  have  suppressed  women,"  corrected 
Babs,  "but  that  is  ended." 

And  now  Paul  had  many  of  the  thoughts 
and  theories  of  the  thrashed  student  of  eco- 
nomics recited  to  him. 

"I  shall  eventually  enlarge  and  improve 
all  this,  and  I  shall  use  my  fortune  to  found 
an  orphan  asylum." 

For  Babs  loved  little  children  dearly. 

Paul  continued  to  smile  and  said  that  she 
was  progressing  enormously,  that  she  ran 
one,  two,  three  over  the  whole  of  life. 

Babs  declared  that  if  he  mock  her  today, 
she  would  dismiss  him  as  soon  as  she  had  a 
word  to  say,  but  if  he  would  stand  by  her, 
she  would  engage  him  for  life. 

Paul  called  this  bribery.  But  he  was  a 
mere  man — ^he  would  help  her. 

128 


-J 


''fP!'tWT*'IMUIiAV*.'""  ."rT^.~~*''v^"^^^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


He  asked  what  she  wished  to  learn.      ,.,  ^ 

"Everything."  I 

Paul  suggested  beginning  with  bookkeep- 
ing and  stenography. 

Babs  removed  her  charming  turban, 
pushed  back  the  blond  curl  that  the  moment- 
ous talk  had  loosened,  and  sat  down. 

Paul  got  a  big  new  book  of  accounts  and 

took  the  place  at  her  side.     He  commenced 

by    explaining   that    double    entry,    called 

Italian,  was  the  usual  form  of  bookkeeping 

— debit  and  credit. 

Attentively  Babette  moved  closer  to 
Paul. 

The  further  women  strive  from  men,  the 
nearer  they  approach  them. 

A  mother  rushes  from  one  duty  to  an- 
other. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  decided  that  she  must 
do  something  to  get  thinner.  She  would  not 
risk  Babette's  chance  of  happiness  a  second 
time. 

Helen  had  mentioned  a  physician  yester- 
day who  cured  wealthy  people  to  emacia- 
tiun.  She  must  hunt  him  up. 

But  in  the  forenoon  she  must  trim  the 


129 


'«y^^';.?/CT^-c>'i■',?^'^'^■^C^■'y;5l5!5r^«i^^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


tree.    Day  after  tomorrow  was  Christmas. 

Babs  helped  her  mother  with  the  decora- 
tions. Her  territory  was  the  top  of  the 
spruce  where  Mrs.  Bomherling  did  not  dare 
climb.  From  a  chair,  mounted  on  a  table, 
she  fastened  a  large,  golden  star  to  the  top, 
and  directly  beneath  it  a  fat,  wax  angel, 
that  blew  "Peace  on  earth"  from  a  glass 
bugle. 

Meanwhile  Babs  spoke  of  her  plans,  of 
work  and  independence. 

Mrs.  Bomherling,  with  head  tilted,  looked 
whether  the  gold  tinsel  was  well  distributed. 
Ever  and  again  she  shook  another  tinsel- 
filled  envelope  over  the  branches. 

She  did  not  take  Babs's  words  to  heart. 

She  knew  from  her  charity  club  that  all 
young  girls  of  her  age  talked  that  way.  AH 
the  ladies  had  complained  about  it. 

One  must  not  contradict  them,  but  rather, 
see  to  it  that  they  meet  the  right  man  soon. 

"You'll  see  all  I  can  do.  I'll  have  a 
career,"  called  Babette  from  on  Wgh  and 
set  the  fat  angel  swinging. 

"You  won't  have  to,"  Mrs.  Bomherling 

180 


■*-»^j4.: 


■■"■■■■     '•'■    ''    '■     ■'■■ ,  ■- .  ' '  '_'   #  "■",  '-       '■-",.      _,  ■     '     ;, 


Babette  BomherUrvg 


said  gently  and  handed  her  daughter  an 
extra  large  package  of  tinsel. 

"If  it  amuses  you,  you  may  learn  a  little 
bookkeeping.  Who  knows,  it  may  be  use- 
ful later  on."  And  she  thought  Babette's 
household  would  be  so  large  some  day  that 
she  would  need  double  entry. 

In  the  afternoon  she  called  up  the  famous 
physician. 

His  housekeeper  answered  saying  that  the 
doctor  could  be  consulted  only  in  the  fore- 
noon, that  his  practice  was  so  extensive,  he 
had  to  attend  a  funeral  every  afternoon. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  made  an  appointment 
for  the  next  morning.  In  spite  of  Christ- 
mas, she  wanted  to  start  reducing  before 
New  Year*s. 

Anna  was  not  used  to  medical  consulta- 
tions. She  had  always  been  healthy,  even 
her  teeth  still  sat  in  a  faultless  row. 

All  this  was  apparent  to  the  doctor  at 
the  first  glance  while  he  asked  Mrs.  Bom- 
berling to  take  a  chair. 

She' was  embarrassed.  She  had  expected 
a  doctor  with  a  gray  beard  and  spectacles, 
[nstead  she  sat  opposite  a  man  who  was 

131 


.»v-"^' 


•-7rr?5?7W'K".'«^*^^;?>*??«?» 


Bahette  Bomberling 


measuring  her  with  sharp  eyes  from  a  clean- 
shaven face. 

On  the  recital  of  her  complaints,  he  stated 
that  she  had  evidently  done  physical  work 
in  her  youth;  that  she  was  not  of  city  origin. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  hesitated,  twisting  the 
golden  chain  of  her  lorgnette. 

The  doctor  said  that  she  must  confide 
everything  to  her  physician.  That  she  could 
rely  on  him  absolutely. 

So  Mrs.  Bomberling  confessed  to  the 
paternal  smithy,  to  washing  the  laundry  in 
the  brook,  and  finally  even  to  the  house- 
work. But  added  that  that  was  all  in  the 
dim  and  distant  past. 

"So  I  see,"  said  the  doctor. 

Anna  could  not  determine  whether  that 
remark  was  due  her  sables  or  herself. 

jN  ow  the  physician  began  to  speak.  Qiiiet- 
ly  and  to  the  point,  he  declared  it  is  an  un- 
fortunate fact,  and  one  not  to  be  gainsaid, 
that  prosperity  is  imhealthy  and  harmful. 
Every  soul  needs  its  body,  but  that  it  gets  un- 
comfortable when  it  increases  continuously. 

He  smiled  while  disgusting  words  like, 
fatty  degeneration  of  the  heart,  arterioscle- 

132 


'fff^^'''''^'*"'^pw'!P3"T^''?^"PPiwp^p^        -^pppi^PiMSPiiiliippilir 


Babette  Bomberling 


rosis,  and  many  others,  gruesomely  mys- 
terious, passed  his  hps. 

"Must  I  die?"  stammered  Mrs.  Bomber- 
ling,  her  light  blue  eyes  brimming. 

"That  depends  wholly  lupon  yourself," 
said  the  doctor  with  a  polite  inclination. 

Anyone  would  have  been  delighted  with 
this  answer. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  dried  her  tears,  and  gave 
confident  attention  to  what  was  forthcoming. 

She  was  questioned  whether  she  could 
not  simply  resume  all  the  housework 
again. 

She  had  to  reply  that  this  would  be  im- 
possible. The  maids  would  not  respect  her, 
and  she  couldn't  dismiss  them  either.  What 
would  the  world  say  to  that?  The  janitor  and 
her  friend  the  widow,  her  acquaintances  and 
the  baroness?    No. 

"Then  we  must  resort  to  gymnastics,"  in- 
terrupted the  doctor — "trunk  forward  bend, 
knee-bend — " 

He  noted  a  lot  of  exercises  and  explained 
them. 

"Creeping  on  all  fours  has  produced  ex- 
ceptional results,"  he  continued. 

133 


-t''C1:TS(JW!!'»'w.v,v'  ;  .- ■•ri5v'^.;Ty'»^-;)n^7r-^jj  •...--.■«.>  ■'^- r-.-  '■■^',  -   -^T'Tr;.  .-,r.  •^^•.     'y  '•'*t>>'T'V-''w>".'\v 


•w,'^-;iT/>|.-  --.'r:-i5«!r:3t!^^(3(r?' 


Babette  Bomberling 


"Creep  around  your  bedroom,  morning, 
noon  and  night." 

"Creep?"  asked  Mrs.  Bomberling  sur- 
prised. 

"You  needn't  let  it  embarrass  you,  he  said 
calmly.  "The  women  of  the  upper  Four-hun- 
dred are  doing  it.  It  is  really  fashionable." 

He  was  turning  the  pages  of  a  note-book. 
He  was  searching  for  something. 

"Now  we  come  to  the  diet,"  he  said  get- 
ting more  lively. 

"Do  you  like  to  eat  chocolate?  Sweets? 
Pastry?" 

"Inmiensely,"  said  Mrs.  Bomberling  well 
pleased. 

"Excellent,"  said  the  doctor. 

"But  I  have  heard  that  sweets — ^" 

Mrs.  Bomberling  looked  «;t  the  ^doctor 
with  shy  embarrassment. 

"Are  to  be  absolutely  avoided.  Quite 
right,"  continued  the  physician.  "But  I 
would  advise  you  to  eat  a  piece  of  candy  be- 
fore each  meal.  Th*t  will  kill  your  appetite. 
It  is  important  that  you  eat  very  little  and 
nothing  fatty,  and  when  you  are  thirsty, 
don't  drink,  just  rinse  your  mouth." 


^!?^!fp^!f'y>!^^Sl^^!W^^WJ^t^^W^^ 


'7»!|°"»^T'!  JiWW».«iWiWIN!  ■-;  -.' 


Babette  Bomherling 


Mrs.  Bomberling  was  given  a  diet.  It 
was  not  as  long  as  the  list  of  exercises. 

Then  she  paid  and  was  dismissed. 

As  she  passed  through  the  door,  she 
stopped  to  ask  whether  all  this  would  really 
help  her. 

"Doubtlessly,  my  dear  madam.  An  ele- 
phant would  emaciate  from  it.''  And  punc- 
tuated her  pleading  look  with  a  polite  bow, 
which  however  came  to  a  brief  end,  for  he 
had  taken  out  his  watch  and  opened  the  door 

of  the  waiting-room. 

*  *  *  *  * 

It  was  Christmas  Eve.    A  family  party. 

But  a  party  with  just  the  members  of  the 
family  is  no  fun.  It  only  has  that  appear- 
ance. 

All  dressed  up,  those  who  are  accustomed 
to  seeing  each  other  continually,  must  beam 
on  one  another,  as  though  they  scarce  knew 
another's  name.  That  is  uncomfortable! 

Bomberling  stood  at  the  gift  table  in  the 
drawing-room    admiring    the    seal    of    the 

Egyptian  mummy. 

"You  are  holding  it  upside  down,  my 
dear,"  said  Anna.    "The  man  from  whom  I 

Its 


,  ',y  ■  -■  H  ■  -'  •-«rS;._,-'-y7»t-anr.' 


Babette  BomherUng 


bought  it,  showed  me  from  which  side  to 
look  at  it." 

August  gazed  at  the  hieroglyphics  from 
the  other  side  obediently. 

Babette  and  Herman  played  a  Christmas 
carol  for  piano  and  violin*. 

On  the  curve  of  the  piano  lay  a  heart  of 
almond  paste,  Hilda  Wagner  had  sent  it. 
It  carried  Babette's  thoughts  to  tender 
memories. 

Herman  was  thinking  that  he  would  be 
accompanying  Liane's  songs  on  this  same 
violin  tomorrow.  He  played  with  a  lot  of 
feeling.  ^     \':\^^ 

Their  parents  sat  in  the  great  armchairs. 

Anna  was  drying  her  tears  with  a  hand- 
kerchief. How  beautifully  the  children  were 
playing  I  How  refined  I  This  playing  would 
have  edified  the  most  aristocratic  man. 

She  was  vexed  with  Bomberling,  who  sat, 
staring  at  the  Christmas  tree,  plainly  show- 
ing that  music  was  but  inconsequent  noise 
to  him. 

Bomberling  was  thinking  of  the  past,  of 
the  days  when  the  children's  music  consisted 
of  tin  trumpets.  He  was  young  in  those 

136 


r»Wi^*r-.^' ''*:"■.-  .   ■■  ■  V-     '■      '  ■•  -    ;    .  '      '■*■  '  ^^■'K"''y^-^^^f^''-y?:^  .  -■" ■^/^-->  ■ .     •fp*??%T^'T^^ 


Babette  BomberUng 


days,  and  had  spoken  his  mind  without  fear 
of  etiquette. 

The  music  ceased.  They  went  to  dinner. 

As  quietly  as  the  candles  on  the  tree,  the 
hours  of  the  evening  simmered  out,  until 
they  could  bid  one  another  "good-night." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  had  given  herself  a 
Christmas  present.  A  small  pair  of  scales 
which  would  indicate  her  daily  loss  of 
weight. 

She  followed  the  doctor's  instructions  with 
her  entire  innate  righteousness. 

Three  times  a  day  she  crawled  like  a  turtle 
and  went  through  her"  exercises  like  a  re- 
cruit. That  was  exhausting,  but  she  en- 
dured it  all  with  a  secret,  beatific  smile.  She 
knew  she  was  doing  something  for  Babette's 
happiness. 

Radiant  with  confidence,  she  looked  to- 
ward the  New  Year  that  was  to  begin  with 
the  owner  of  the  five-story  house. 

Before  that  came  New  Year's  Eve. 

The  Christmas  tree  was  lit  a  second  time, 
but  today  the  little  lights  snapped  and 
flickered  merrily.  Laughter  and  chattering 
enlivened  the  air.   Not  only  were  Hilda  and 

137 


I-"'     ■'  '  '  '  ,  ■'        '  -■;■:  ■;  .■«■•■  ■.■v.;., •-• .   ^      \    '■  I-:;..':?: 


Babette  BomherUng 

Paul  there.  Between  Uncle  Albert  and 
Aunt  Helen  sat  the  new  acquaintance — ^the 
sausage  manufacturer,  Christian  Sebold. 

When  Christian  Sebold  was  introduced 
to  Mrs.  Bomberling,  that  good  soul  had  to 
master  her  enthusiasm  not  to  hold  both  hands 
out  to  him.  With  a  thrill  in  her  heart  she 
looked  across  at  Babs,  who  was  joking  with 
Paul.  Here  was  a  man  to  please  anyone. 
Large  and  broad-shouldered,  with  a  vigor- 
ous blond  moustache  and  a  colored  velvet 
vest  with  the  most  adorable  buttons,  dis- 
tinguished and  genial. 

They  became  acquainted  immediately.  He 
sat  among  them  all  as  though  he  had  always 
sat  there,  and  whatever  they  talked  about, 
he  was  well  versed  in. 

Hilda  Wagner  mentioned  Italy.  Her 
aunt  was  going  there. 

"An  advanced  and  competent  land,"  ex- 
claimed Christian  Sebold,  stroking  his 
moustache. 

They  inquired  interestedly  whether  he  had 
ever  been  there. 

"No,"  said  he,  "not  yet,  but  I  am  in  con- 
tinual commimication  with  it.  AH  the  mer- 
its 


•■■»^** 


Babette  Bomherling 


tadella  from  Bologna,  all  the  salami  from 
Napoli  of  the  gulf  of  Napoli,  Italia." 

"What  euphony!"  remarked  Mrs.  Bom- 
herling. 

And  thus  their  conversation  ran  on,  pleas- 
ant, lively  and  instructive. 

Only  Uncle  Albert  was  tired. 

"No  wonder,"  said  Aunt  Helen.  "He 
never  gets  among  people.  We  are  alone  at 
home  every  evening." 

We  are  often  more  candid  than  we  realize. 

Christian  Sebold  got  out  his  letter-case. 

"All  that  can  be  altered,"  he  said  cordial- 
ly to  Aunt  Helen  handing  her  a  pass  to  the 
"Gloom  Dispellers'  Club"  of  which  he  was 
president. 

"Agreeable  entertainment  for  everyone 
that  comes,  every  evening." 

"Conversation!"  said  Albert  unpleasant- 
ly. "Each  waits  till  the  other  has  stopped 
talking,  only  so  he  may  begin  again.  That's 
aU." 

He  had  a  slight  liver  complaint,  and  had 
been  scrapping  with  Aunt  Helen  all  day 
long.  She  had  called  his  house-shoes,  night- 
shoes.     He  had  explained  that  one  said 

199 


Babette  Bomberling 


morning-shoes  too.  Whereupon  she  had  de- 
clared that  one  was  as  good  as  another.  He 
was  only  waiting  till  they  were  alone  agfun. 

"Let  us  end  the  old  year  merrily,"  sang 
out  Christian  Sebold,  hitting  Uncle  Albert 
good-naturedly  on  the  shoulder. 

"His  wife  will  lead  a  happy  existence," 
thought  Mrs.  Bomberling. 

It  deUghted  her  that  Babette  joked  and 
laughed  a  lot  with  Christian  Sebold.  She 
was  quite  different  from  the  last  few  days. 

Babs  thought  Freddy  might  ask  his  sis- 
ter how  Babette  had  been  on  New  Year's 
Eve.  Gay,  very  gay,  should  be  Hilda's 
answer. 

For  ,tha(t  reason  she  played  the  piano, 
sang,  and  solved  the  conundrums  put  by 
Christian  Sebold. 

When  it  struck  twelve,  they  filled  their 
glasses. 

"For  luck  and  health  and  happiness," 
sang  out  Christian  Sebold,  going  to  each  one 
with  a  firm  step. 

Bomberling  did  not  join  in  all  this.  He 
only  went  to  Babette  and  gently  caressed 
her  hair. 


140 


l5;?[3iip^/ru;:.'-;j»r-fT'-y,v.';J  •;'Tr.v,"}  y  -.--i-     ;  ■^.'<v"-^;«f7  ^.''^T'WsST^ssVT^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


Mrs.  Bomberling  said,  her  handkerchief 
to  her  nose : 

"It's  a  great  pity  our  Herman  isn't  here 
tonight." 

An  important  engagement  with  a  friend, 
was  keeping  Herman  from  home. 

"We  musft  stmnble  over  the  sill  of  the 
New  Year  together,  old  dear,"  Liane  had 
said — 

"Have  you  wished  Mr.  Sebold,  *Happy 
New  Year,'  my  child?"  asked  Mrs.  Bomber- 
ling, giving  her  Babette  a  New  Year's  kiss. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Babs. 

"Do  you  like  this  fat  sausage  man?"  asked 
Paul. 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  Babs,  yawning  a 
little. 

They  broke  up  late — 

Today  Mrs.  Bomberling  didn't  crawl 
around  her  room,  although  Bomberling  had 
fallen  asleep  immediately  and  would  have 
noticed  nothing.  She  said  to  herself  that 
Christian  Sebold  was  so  broad-minded,  he 
would  not  care  whether  the  mother  of  his 
bride  weighed  a  pound  more  or  less. 

Reassured  that  there  were  still  some  good 

141 


;yi^»JIS»J    -^-r'-'-f 


Babette  Bomherling 


men   in   the   world,   she   soon   fell   asleep, 

smiling. 

«  *  «  «  « 

New  Year's  Day  dawned,  gray  and 
morose,  as  though  it  were  a  tatter  of  the 
old  year. 

Bomherling  rode  to  his  office.  The  fac- 
tory was  naturally  closed,  but  the  office  had 
to  be  open.  No  hoUday  was  holy  for  the 
great  agent,  who  restlessly  cared  for  the 
turnover  of  Bomberling's  wares. 

Babette  had  gone  to  church  with  Hilda. 
She  was  curious  to  see  if  it  were  true  that 
the  new  parson  who  was  said  to  be  a  poet, 
could  preach  so  wonderfully. 

In  the  afternoon  they  were  going  sleigh- 
ing with  Christian  Sebold. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  was  counting  the  sil- 
ver that  had  been  used  last  evening.  The 
fragrance  of  a  big  roast  and  the  whiff  of 
baked  apples  came  from  the  kitchen.  She 
was  in  a  holiday  mood. 

Then  came  a  piercing  shriek  from  the 
maid  in  the  adjoining  room. 

Thumps  and  a  clash. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  rushed  in  just  in  time 

142 


^'^BI^:f'^Uk^''-!'^iyf[<^:^-^'r~..-    ■  7»i.-7  • .    .-"sv"  -.■■^;^i?''V!-^t^:^f}''y^^-ir^'/"-"':\'    '-    ..-  -KTw^'T'-\v'"-Kfj.^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


to  see  Napoleon  melt  into  the  snowy  dis- 
tance, like  a  little  butter-ball.  A  moment 
more  and  he  was  gone. 

He  seemed  to  prefer  his  liberty  to  im- 
prisonment, just  like  his  illustrious  predeces- 
sor, the  great  Napoleon. 

They  inquired  through  the  whole  neigh- 
borhood, hoping  he  had  flown  into  one  of 
the  nearby  windows,  but  everyone  had  only 
his  own  bird  in  its  cage. 

The  janitor's  wife  said  that  the  police 
ought  to  be  notified.  They  might  be  able 
to  help.  They  could  have  all  the  neighbor- 
ing houses  searched.  Perhaps  even  find  him. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  hastened  to  the  tele- 
phone and  called  up  the  nearest  station- 
house. 

But  a  dicky-bird  can  escape  more  quickly 
than  be  caught.  First  Mrs.  Bomherling  had 
to  state  the  name,  address  and  occupation  of 
the  owner. 

Then  they  asked: 

"When  did  the  canary  fly  away?" 

"Where  to?" 

Unfortunately  Mrs.  Bomherling  didn't 
know  this. 


148 


•  ■*/>  t^r^iT*.-  ">     . 


Babette  Bomberling 


"Especial  marks  of  identification?" 

"Yellow,"  cried  Mrs.  Bomberiing. 

"Surname?" 

"Napoleon." 

"What?" 

"Napoleon." 

Now  there  was  a  pause. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  could  distinctly  hear 
the  turning  of  pages.  Then  nothing 
further. 

"Are  you  there?"  criec^  Mrs.  Bomber- 
ling. 

"Not  there,  but  here.  Say,  tell  me  with 
how  many  'p's'  you  write  Napoleon." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  hesitated.  She  didn't 
know,  and  little  Napoleon  might  be  de- 
voured by  a  cat  at  any  moment! 

"With  two,"  Ishe  cried  desperately  de- 
cisive. Rather  too  many  than  too  few, 
thought  she. 

"All  right,  when  we  get  him,  you  shall 
have  him.     Good-bye." 

As  Mrs.  Bomberling  hung  up  the  receiv- 
er and  turned  around  quite  exhausted,  she 
found  a  dapper  little  man  standing  before 
her.     He  bowed  before  Mrs.  Bomberling, 

14)4 


;..«r-T'^;:-«Ti''"'i  .^. 


Babette  Bomherling 


his  yellow-gloved  hands  neatly  holding  a 
top-hat  and  a  hunch  of  roses. 

He  hoped  he  was  not  disturbing  and  ex- 
cused his  entering  through  the  wide-open 
door.  He  was  bringing  a  greeting  from  her 
friend  the  professor's  widow.  Besides, 
miglit  he  permit  himself  to  remark  that  to 
the  best  of  his  modest  knowledge.  Napoleon 
was  spelt  with  only  one  "p." 

The  Httle  man  was  the  owner  of  the  five- 
story  house,  but  Mrs.  Bomherling  thought 
Napoleon's  finder  was  before  her.  Joy- 
ously, she  cried: 

"Have  you  got  him?" 

The  smiling  Kttle  man  reiterated  that  he 
had  nothing  to  bring  but  the  regards  of  her 
friend. 

At  last  Mrs.  Bomherling  understood. 

She  measured  him  with  a  brief  but  severe 
look.  She  compared  him  with  Christian  Se- 
bold.    That  was  his  finish. 

"Prill,"  said  the  little  man  and  bowed, 
alarmed  before  the  august  stare.  "Rentier 
Prill." 

"An  unfortunate  moment,"  said  Mrs. 
BomberUng. 

145 


•":  ■  ry^-':  ■  -if 


Babette  Bomherling 


"I  heard  so.  I  regret  it  extremely,  but  if 
we  wait,  the  little  birdie  will  come  back," 
said  Mr.  Prill,  sitting  down  and  placing 
the  roses  carefully  on  the  center  table.  Mrs, 
Bomherling  sat  down  too;  her  knees  were 
trembling.  She  was  speechless.  She  could 
only  fan  herself  with  her  perfumed  hand- 
kerchief. 

"Has  your  daughter  flown  away  too?" 
the  visitor  asked,  and  bleated  a  short  laugh. 

A  shriek  from  an  adjoining  room  pre- 
•^  vented  a  reply. 

The  maid  ran  in,  and  not  noticing  the 
stranger,  screamed: 

"Another  one  is  missing.'' 

Mrs.  Bomherling  reproved  her  severely. 
She  pointed  out  that  she  never  had  but  one 
bird,  consequently  no  second  one  could  be 
gone. 

Only  after  a  lot  of  parley,  did  they  learn 
that  the  maid  was  talking  about  Herman. 
She  had  wanted  to  waken  the  young  master 
but  no  one  had  answered.  Then  she  entered 
and  found  the  bed  undisturbed.  The  young 
master  had  not  come  home,  and  it  was  noon. 

Mr.  Prill  got  up. 

146 


»''f?\r^-  -■ 


Babette  Bomberling 


"Then  I  really  must  not  disturb  any  long- 
er," bowed  and  left. 

He  took  the  roses  too.  Extreme  gener- 
osity was  quite  unnecessary.  The  baroness 
had  given  him  several  other  axidresses. 

Mrs.  Bomberhng  never  noticed  his  going. 
She  telephoned  August,  her  good,  beloved 
August.    He  could  advise. 

Bomberling  answered  that  he  would  come 
home  directly.  His  Anna  should  not  lose 
courage.  "Let  us  hope  the  boy  is  safe  and 
sound." 

Before  he  started,  he  called  up  the  police. 
When  he  mentioned  his  name,  they  aston- 
ished him,  by  reporting  that  up  to  now  the 
search  was  in  vain.  Who  could  tell  where 
he  might  have  flown  to.  In  his  excitement 
Bomberling  did  not  bother  about  the  strange 
answer,  but  hurried  home. 

Anna  stood  at  the  window  of  the  music 
room.  She  was  shaking  her  head.  So  Her- 
man had  not  arrived. 

While  Bomberhng  was  paying  the  chauf- 
feur, a  second  taxi  stopped. 

After  a  while  the  door  opened,  and  then, 

14T 


t^L^.. 


■■•■       ■■••.'.     y:r    ■■.■*■■■■:  riiTlfr^.^Tipt 


Babette  Bomberling 


gradually,  some  one  climbed  out.  It  was 
Herman. 

He  blinked  at  the  other  car  and  then  be- 
gan to  search  his  pockets  for  money.  It 
seemed  in  vain. 

Bomberling  looked  up  to  Anna.  Beam- 
ing with  happiness  the  parents'  eyes  met. 
Bomberling  approached  Herman,  who  was 
still  going  through  his  pockets  and  said: 

"All  right,  my  boy,  I'U  pay." 

Herman  blinked  at  Bomberling  a  while, 
then  he  said: 

"Oh,  it's  you,  Dad.  Why,  hello.  I  guess 
I'm  a  little  late  tonight.  You'll  pardon  me, 
won't  you?" 

He  tipped  his  hat  and  reeled  into  the 
house.  Upstairs  Anna  stood  in  the  door- 
way. 

"My  son,"  said  she  in  tears,  and  tried  to 
embrace  him. 

But  Herman  dodged. 

"Stop  the  rain,  Mom,  stop  the  rain,"  said 
he  and  rocked  past  her  towards  his  room, 
like  a  sailboat  in  a  storm. 

And  that  afternoon,  when  Christian  Se- 
bold  drove  up  with  the  ringing  of  sleigh- 

148 


^  • -I  ^■■iz-^'^lfi%i 


Babette  Bomherling 


bells,  Napoleon's  twittering  could  not  be 
heard  in  the  quiet  apartment — but  Her- 
man's loud  snoring. 

Babette  wouldn't  go  sleighing.  She  had 
scattered  bird-seed  on  all  the  window-sills 
and  was  looking  out. 

It  was  getting  dark  already.  Tears 
dripped  from  her  eyes. 

"I'll  go  look  for  him  once  more,  Babette," 
said  Paul  and  went  out  quietly. 

Bomberling  couldn't  bear  to  see  her  cry 
either. 

"I'm  going  for  a  little  walk,"  he  said, 
after  a  while. 

Christian  Sebold  remained)  seated,  and 
drank  hot  coffee  with  audible  relish. 

"A  canary  is  nothing  so  very  precious," 
said  he.  "I'll  bet  such  a  little  creature,  even 
with  all  its  feathers  doesn't  weigh  a  quarter 
of  a  pound." 

The  bell  rang.  The  maid  announced  a 
Mr.  Kippenbach. 

A  young  man  entered,  dressed  in  the  very 
latest  fashion.  He  bowed  and  explained 
that  he  lived  across  the  street,  and  knew 
the  blond,  youn^  lady  by  sight,  that  he  had 

149 


T 
I 


Babette  Bomherling 


something  for  her.  He  brought  a  little  box 
from  mider  his  coat,  and  Babette  found 
Napoleon  nestling  in  it. 

Joy  was  great.  Her  rapture  was  de- 
lightful. 

Mr.  Kippenbach  was  invited  to  sit  down. 

He  looked  around  and  said. 

"What  an  attractive  home." 

Then  he  explained  that  he  was  the  son 
of  Kippenbach  &  Son,  player-pianos. 

"How  very  interesting,"  said  Mrs.  Bomh- 
erling and  remarked  that  they  had  a  con- 
cert grand. 

"Nice  enough,  but  not  up-to-date,' 
answered  Kippenbach  smiling.  "Look 
here — who  wants  to  practice  for  years  in 
our  restless  age,  all  in  order  to  make  a  little 
music  on  Sundays?  That  can't  be  expected 
any  more.  Now  however — ^whoever  wants 
music — ^this  ennohUng  Art,  thait  lifts  us  out 
of  our  drudgery,  the  everyday  world — sits 
down  at  his  player-piano — and  has  his  d^ 
sires  fulfilled. 

"Then  I  go  to  the  opera,"  said  Christian 
Sebold,  playing  with  his  watch-chain.  This 
Mr.  Kippenbach  grated  on  him. 

150 


•  !?<Si?;7!i^|C^^5^^!3?Ba;ww^y^<vX   ■  ■ 


Babette  Bomberling 


Mrs.  BomberKng  sent  a  mediating  smile 
between  the  two  blond  men.  Only  when 
Mr.  Kippenbach  mentioned  that  he  was  an 
officer  of  the  reserves,  did  her  smile  become 
one-sided.  Nothing  is  more  variable  than  a 
woman's  favor. 

Babs  ran  back  and  forth.  She  got  bath- 
water for  Napoleon,  and  sugar  and  little 
salad  leaves. 

Then  Paul  returned.  He  didn't  observe 
the  stranger  at  the  tea-table.  Smiling  hap- 
pily he  hurried  to  Babette. 

"He  who  looks  may  find,"  said  he  un- 
knotting a  little  cloth  and  letting  Babette 
peep  in. 

"How  is  that  possible?  Which  one  is  the 
right  one  now?"  she  asked  and  looked  from 
Paid  to  Mr.  Kippenbach. 

Now  the  apartment  door  was  unlatched 
and  Bomberling  came  in  smiling. 

"Kippenbach,"  said  Mr.  Kippenbach 
making  a  faultless  bow. 

Bomberling  had  not  noticed  him.  He  had 
gone  straight  to  Babette  and  was  saying 
tenderly : 

'All  you  have  to  do  is  send  out  your 

151 


« 


"VvW  ,'*"  ■     ,     -yi^       ■'■    "     :.■«.-•;■-..    i    .«^-.   ->.  —   ..•.—      :..,-.-,    ^,.        ■    ,    -    -•  ..Tf"      -1  ,.:-■■>  ;-:.'rvT!'N';;^r<'W?r- 


]  -■■•■' ;^;•^'^!f!■N".-•F^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


father;  then  tears  are  unnecessary,"  and  he 
produced  a  pasteboard  box  over  which  he 
held  a  sieve  carefully,  and  under  this  sat 
Napoleon. 

Endless  amazement.  Exclamations — pro- 
testations of  the  fortunate  finders. 

Christian  Sebold  rose.  He  was  a  man 
too — rather — and  one  who  might  well  wear 
his  income-tax  return  as  a  boutonniere. 
They  might  pay  more  attention  to  him. 

So  he  said  now  loudly,  that  he  regretted  to 
be  the  only  one  here  without  a  bird.  He 
wished  Miss  Babette  continuous  good  luck 
in  the  New  Year,  and  departed. 

Kippenbach,  Bomberling  and  Paul  gath- 
ered in  conference.  Each  was  ready  to 
take  his  bird  back.  All  three  birds  were 
from  the  nearest  fancier.  He  had  sold  all 
three  in  spite  of  the  Sabbath  quiet — at  a 
fancy  price,  to  be  sure. 

Babs  fed  all  three  and  found  that 
each  bore  a  striking  resemblance  to  her 
Napoleon. 

They  tried  to  have  the  birds  decide  for 
themselves.  They  held  up  the  cage  and 
called  "Peep"  and  "Napoleon,"  but  all  three 

152 


»^f)|[»P!j5r'.^,;f*!n7N,'Ty^^T;^j'^t  ,'T  Z"*'  -'^^v.  .  ^-^y^'v'^-'fr^  f-z^-'^'^y^^^^f^^^^  .  ■-^''^t  '»7?'?'^=f*'  ^^7  .J7^*r 


Babette  Bomberling 


fluttered  behind  the  sideboard,  from  which 
they  were  extracted  with  a  great  deal  of  fuss 
and  bother. 

Hence  they  decided  to  wait  till  the  morn- 
ing, and  keep  all  here  over  night  anyway. 

Mr.  Kippenbach  pressed  a  long  kiss  on 
Mrs.  Bomberling's  hand  and  one  still  longer 
on  Babette's  slender  fingers  and  took  his 
leave  for  the  day. 

Paul  went  too,  because  Mrs.  Bomberling 
could  really  not  keep  up  any  longer.  The 
excitements  of  this  restless  day  suddenly 
commenced  to  bear  their  consequences.  Be- 
sides she  was  continually  hungry  in  spite  of 
the  little  piece  of  chocolate.  She  broke 
down,  crying  hysterically,  and  seemed  com- 
pletely exhausted. 

Babette  tenderly  put  her  mother  to  bed. 

Bomberling  promised  to  look  after  Her- 
man, who  seemed  to  have  wakened,  for  his 
snores  had  died  out. 

Only  after  Anna's  tired  limbs  rested  in 
the  cool  linen  was  she  able  ot  smile  at  her 
Babette. 

"If  I  could  only  know  you  were  happy, 
dear  child,*'  said  she. 

153 


..'■•^-~'^^yviw. 


Bahette  Bomberling 


And  after  a  while,  her  eyes  ab*eady 
closed,  she  murmured  sleepily: 

"Young  Kippenbach  seems  a  charming 
person.  I  like  his  vest  almost  better  than 
Mr.  Sebold's." 

"I  can  only  remember  that  both  were  gaily 
colored,"  said  Babette  and  smiled  at  herself 
in  the  large  pier-glass. 

When  we  have  once  resolved  never  to 
marry,  mere  men  and  their  vests  are  no 
longer  upsetting. 

In  the  mean  time  Bomberling  had  entered 
his  son's  room. 

Herman  sat  reading  at  his  desk.  He 
didn't  glance  up. 

"Come  to  supper,  my  boy,"  said  Bomb- 
erling. "Mamma  has  retired  already  and 
Babette  has  a  funny  story  to  tell  you." 

Herman  thought  that  his  father  was  be- 
having like  a  real  sport.  He  should  have 
liked  to  shake  his  hand,  but  he  kept  stolidly 
silent. 

"Come  now,  my  boy.  If  I  know  your 
mother,  there'll  be  a  herring  for  you  too." 

Bomberling  stood  behind  Herman's  chair. 
He  should  really  have  liked  to  pat  the  boy*s 

154 


f7v'fVi'Vl^F\-f' ■"-".:-<  -    ■■■■  ■'•-'-  ^.!^^ 


Bahette  Bomberling 


thick  mop  of  ^blond  hair,  but  now  that  he 
was  a  student,  it  probably  would  not  do. 

Herman  got  up,  his  eyes  riveted  to  the 
floor. 

"You  haven't  by  any  chance  taken  my 
watch;  Papa?"  he  said.  "Funny!  It  isn't 
there,  nor  my  scarf-pin,  nor  my  wallet.  Re- 
markable!   I  can't  find  them  anywhere." 

Bomberling  sat  down  and  took  up  pen 
and  paper. 

"Then  we'd  better  insert  a  notice  in  the 
newspapers.  Tell  me  briefly  where  you 
were." 

But  that  was  not  told  so  briefly.  It  was 
some  time  before  the  notice  was  set  up. 

The  honest  finder  was  given  a  great 
chance  to  prove  himself.  Not  only  in  the 
turmoil  of  the  city,  but  also  in  the  vaude- 
villes and  in  the  red  ballrooms,  in  the 
black  cabaret,  in  the  cafe  "Joy"  and  also 
in  the  cafe  "Rose  of  Dawn,"  he  might  have 
come  upon  Herman  Bomberhng's  treasures. 

But  time  takes  time.    Everything  works 
out. 
When  Bomberling  went  to  investigate  the 

155 


■.^-.  .*»  ;  >^,,  >■  •: '  ^V,i^/^,y^*fvv7vn;* 


Bahette  BomberUng 


weather  the  next  morning,  he  found  a  ca- 
nary sitting  on  the  thermometer. 

This  was  undoubtedly  Napoleon,  the 
First.  He  entered  his  cage.  The  foisted 
ones  disappeared  agaih. 

Babette  had  new  evidence  of  the  falsity 
of  men. 

But  she  found  that  something  special 
sounded  in  his  song,  since  he  had  this  ad- 
venture. The  others,  however,  could  notice 
nothing  extraordinary,  except  that  he  was 
hoarse. 

Herman's  treasures  did  not  return.  You 
see  they  had  no  wings.  Christian  Sebold 
stayed  away  too,  perhaps  for  similar 
reasons. 

Instead  Mr.  Kippenbach  was  there,  prac- 
tically every  evening.  Since  some  time  they 
had  known-  that  his  name  was  William  and 
that  he  did  not  consider  a  coffin  a  worse  piece 
of  furniture  than  a  player-piano. 

Business  is  business. 

Whenever  he  came,  he  began  with: 

"Regards  from  my  papa  and  little 
mamma." 


156 


^f5*f»?!^/^-^?^     -t3?  "'•' ""^    '  r  '^'  T'U\::y-^^::  :  JX'-^T'^ :^t^lpr^P'^  '•     '•       ~  .-'T^~>]'-'  -    ■    '^'t  f - 


Bahette  Bomberling 


That  bound  a  kindly  tie  from  family  to 
family. 

Babs  went  to  her  father's  factory  every 
afternoon  to  study  with  Paul. 

The  first  days  Bomberling  had  asked 
with  surprise,  whether  Paul  had  an  invita- 
tion for  the  evening.  Paul  was  suddenly 
dressed  in  the  latest  fashion — scarf  and 
socks  of  the  same  pale  lavender  and  waist- 
coat, dandified  Uke  that  of  Mr.  Kippen- 
bach.  But  he  had  no  engagement  for  the 
evening. 

So  the  days  and  hopes  ran  on.  One  tore 
the  pages  of  the  calendar,  and  was  no  longer 
concerned  whether  the  year  was  old  or  new. 

But  on  Bomberling's  face  a  mental  worry 
was  pushing  the  broad  serenity  more  and 
more  aside. 

There  was  war  in  the  Balkans.  And  if 
this  had  never  brought  harm  to  coffin  manu- 
facture, it  was  bringing  harm  to  Bomb- 
erling. Aunt  Helen  was  right.  If  we  are 
unlucky,  we  can  break  our  fingers  in  our 
noses.  Large  claims  remained  unpaid. 
Stocks  fell. 


157 


k. 


TJtr^»-yTf''  '     . ' 


'V-rj.-'i-  ■^:-?*Wi.r!'S^ 


Babette  BomherUng 


But  a  disaster  at  home  tortured  Bomber- 
ling  apparently  more.  This  threatened  his 
peace.  The  newspapers  could  keep  him 
posted  on  the  European  situation,  but  here 
he  stood  before  an  enigma. 

He  had  awakened  before  his  usual  time 
one  morning.  With  closed  eyes,  he  was 
puzzling  over  the  intricate  affairs  of  his 
works.  Then  Anna  softly  raised  her  head 
and  asked: 

"Are  you  asleep,  August?*' 

Not  to  be  disturbed,  he  kept  quiet. 

Then  something  horrible  took  place. 

Anna  slipped  quietly  out  of  her  bed,  and 
began  to  crawl  heavily  and  yet  with  seeming 
practice,  all  around  the  room.  When  she 
had  returned  to  her  bed,  a  sigh  burst  from 
her  lips,  and  she  lay  down  to  sleep  again. 

Ice-cold  pricks  crept  over  Bomberling's 
skin.  He  recalled  forgotten  fables.  Be- 
witched toads  and  crown-bearing  frogs.  He 
did  not  remember  the  connection.  He  felt 
the  same  gruesome  horror  as  when  he  was 
a  child. 

The  following  morning  and  many  there- 
after, he  could  witness  the  same  hideous 

158 


f^^Jlfj-ry; 


Babette  Bomherling 


drama,  that  would  now  haunt  his  thoughts 
all  day  long. 

In  the  bright  daylight  we  do  not  believe 
in  fairy  tales.  Bomberling  said  to  himself 
with  terror,  that  Anna  must  be  unbalanced. 

He  recalled  the  past  weeks.  He  re- 
membered one  night  at  the  theater,  when 
she  had  imagined  all  the  young  men  were 
looking  lat  her.  There  had  been  a  bewildered 
vacant  smile  on  her  face  all  evening. 
Was  that  the  beginning?  He  commenced 
watching  Anna.  She  had  grown  paler  an"d 
thinner.  She  scarcely  a.te.  When  he  was 
out  with  her,  she  looked  at  all  young  men. 
At  times  she  would  exclaim  vivaciously: 

"Isn't  he  distinguished  looking.  I  wonder 
who  he  is?" 

He  learned  that  a  strange  gentleman  had 
called  on  Anna  New  Year's  Day,  with  a 
bunch  of  roses.  She  had  not  told  him  any- 
thing about  this.  She  was  much  more  cor- 
dial to  Mr.  Kippenbach  than  Babette  was, 
and  regretted  daily  that  Christian  Sebold 
did  not  reappear. 

Bomberling  had  no  one  to  discuss  this 
with.    He  couldn't  talk  to  the  children.    He 


159 


^•^■',:,'     :       '    '  ■  •:        :       ,.  ■;  ^--i,'-.-       ■  ■>;:... •'^^  . ■;/;■•  ,!•;,,;:-; 'VS'XTJSV' >*■<•-. 


I    V'r*'^^J^.'5F* 


Babette  Bomherling 


wouldn't  to  Paul,  and  he  did  not  think  of  a 
doctor. 

He  commenced  cross-questioning  his 
business  friends  a  bit  about  the  mental  life 
of  their  wives. 

What  he  heard  there  was  often  not  nice. 

There  was  evidently  an  age,  when  the 
hearts  of  women  do  more  than  rejuvenate. 
Where  women  are  capable  of  any  folly. 
That  this  second  youth  usually  came  when 
the  first  gray  hairs  were  being  pulled  out. 
At  the  period,  when  one  has  attained  pros- 
perity, the  children  lare  going  their  own 
way,  and  the  servants  taking  care  of  the 
household.    Ennui  brings  this  misfortune. 

This  was  a  wealthy  lumber  magnate's 
solution  of  the  physical  problem. 

"The  best  thing  that  can  happen  to  hus- 
bands is  to  have  wives  become  athletic. 
Why  my  wife  roller-skates  on  our  terrace 
all  day  long.  That  isn't  the  worst  thing  in 
the  world." 

"No  indeed,  that  isn't  the  worst,"  said 
Bomherling  and  stared  vacantly  beyond  the 
big  man. 

Another  said: 


160 


RWv^TT^-'-i^ 


:^r^y'^3*Tr^^^=^'?i-^v^r '^v  '  ?^^^^^  *     '   i  'v:fM?^i?^^^^^?r^'^*l 


Babette  Bomberling 


"That  all  passes.  When  they  become 
grandmothers  everything  is  all  right  again." 

Then  Bomberling  began  to  long  for  Ba- 
bette's  marriage  too.  That  is  to  say,  with 
one  side  of  his  worried  heart.  The  other 
side  desired  never  to  part  from  his  daughter. 

Thus  he  was  in  a  precarious  position, 
when  an  elderly  gentleman  introduced  him- 
self one  afternoon,  as  the  senior  Kippen- 
bach,  and,  after  a  few  preliminary  words, 
asked  for  Babette's  hand  for  his  son 
William. 

Mr.  Eappenbach  was  convinced  that  the 
dhildren  were  suited  to  one  another  although 
he  had  to  admit  that  the  business  of  his  fac- 
tory stood  a  little  behind  that  of  Bomber- 
ling's  undertaking.  He  emphasized  regret- 
fully that  everyone  in  the  world  had  to  have 
a  coffin,  but  by  far  not  a  pianola. 

But  what  is  not  yet,  may  come.  Any- 
way the  young  Kippenbachs  should  have 
enough  to  live  on,  and  he  named  the  sum 
that  he  thought  should  be  Miss  Bomber- 
ling's  dowry. 

It  was  a  fancy  figure  containing  a  great 
many  zeros.     The  sort  that  dances  before 

161 


inSJ^^^HT'^        '       •     •    ■•     •  -r-T-v^/  ,   .;V''^'>--' ■v-r;-.<:.-":''/vr;^,  .;.■  ..--I     -'  *.":,*;';;:v^- 


Babette  Bomberling 


one's  eyes  so  lusciously  and  impressively,  as 
the  first  prize  in  a  lottery. 

Two  sharp  pairs  of  eyes  measured  one  an- 
other. Two  sly  business  foxes  smiled  at 
each  other. 

"We  must  ask  my  daughter,  and  my 
wife,"  answered  Bomberling  calmly. 

"Most  assuredly,"  the  other  hastened  to 
say.  He  had  not  been  able  to  glimpse  the 
slightest  quiver  in  the  other's  features, 
when  he  mentioned  the  remarkable  sum. 
That  factory  must  stand  even  better  than 
he  had  been  informed  by  the  secret  agency. 
He  was  satisfied  and  impressed. 

When  Anna  heard  this  news  she  was 
pleased,  at  first. 

Then  she  became  thoughtful,  and  then 
depressed.  Her  wishes  had  been  over- 
reached.    The  reality  was  too  sudden. 

This  was  to  be  decisive.  No  aristocrat, 
now  when  she  had  lost  ten  pounds? 

Babette  no  longer  at  home  with  August 
and  her,  was  to  become  a  fact?  Babette 
Kippenbach? 

Anna  began  to  weep,  and  threw  all  the 
responsibility  of  a  decision  on  Bomberling. 

162 


=»; ...-  -:  ;'    .■.:t^.*c"  "--«.'.'-Ts"p!5v'v/-   ■■  '^yt^  -V  '■  <\'  ■S^Civi/'^.^*!'^ 


Babette  BomherUrvg 


But  Bomberling  said  no  one  should  de- 
cide but  Babette  herself. 

^  «'  *  #  * 

The  seveenteen-year  old  girl  sat  in  her 
room,  bent  over  books  and  papers.  In  the 
middle  of  the  table  was  a  bowl  of  snow- 
drops. 

At  business  college  Paul  had  used  the 
books  that  lay  before  Babs.  There  were 
drawings  along  the  margin  of  many  a  page. 
Reflection  or  abstraction  may  have  guided 
Paul's  hand  in  those  days.  Babette  was 
greatly  amused  by  them.  On  one  page 
there  was  a  little  doll  sucking  a  bottle.  Paul 
had  said  that  this  represented  her.  She  had 
been  so  small  when  he  was  learning  in  these 
books. 

Babette  studied  and  learnt  diligently. 
She  wanted  Paul  to  praise  her.  Every  after- 
noon he  extolled  her  quick  perceptive  ability 
anew,  whereas  she  admired  his  wide  and 
dear  knowledge.  They  were  thoroughly 
satisfied  with  each  other. 

Babette  was  astonished  when  her  father 
and  mother  came  in  together.     When  she 

108 


TTP>f^»S-  -         •      V  •  •■■      .-  •  — ;        •     •     .' .  ■.;-.-.--.i- '•-,.  T;---   :•      .;m|-     I   ■     •■--•~^:'^f^- 


Bahette  Bomherling 


saw  their  serious  expressions,  she  was 
alarmed. 

Now  they  had  surely  heard  of  her  esca- 
pade with  Freddy  Wagner.  This  event  of 
her  life  was  a  continous  torture  to  her. 

"Don't  be  angry  with  me,"  she  said  and 
got  up. 

"But  we  aren't  angry  with  you,"  said 
Anna  embracing  her  with  a  great  sob. 

Bomherling  turned  hurriedly,  and  as 
though  fleeing  before  the  Spring  floods, 
turned  his  back  on  all  tears  and  ran  out. 

With  great  strides  he  wandered  back  and 
forth,  from  Napoleon  to  the  clock,  from  the 
clock  to  Napoleon,  without  paying  the 
slightest  attention  to  the  appetizing  pic- 
ture that  hung  between  them. 

His  thoughts  made  him  warm.  He  would 
have  liked  to  run  around  in  shirt-sleeves. 

He  was  overcome  with  fury  against  all 
this  putting  on  airs.  This  tinpan-box 
maker  demanded  a  fortune  as  well  as  the 
privilege  of  stealing  his  child  from  his  home. 
But  the  coffins  that  had  made  the  money 
remained  a  disgrace.  When  he  was  still  as- 
sociating with  his  own  kind,  he  had  had  to 

164 


g_-.--t-,. •/:'  .-   ■      ,      -      .'.  •■      '-  ••-;-,'•        ;->"■■     ■'^s-^V."'v '■.S''-:'^sr~^«';V;^-<' .;  .      .    -'. './■i^.^vf^rvT's^fr- 


Bahette  Bomberling 


hide  before  no  one.  Simple  folks  know: 
who  lives,  must  die.  Who  dies,  requires  a 
coffin.  For,  who  buys  must  pay.  But  the 
swells  would  like  life  without  death.  They 
love  credit. 

And  then  Bomberling's  thoughts  ran  on 
to  his  losses.  , ; 

Now  he  was  boiling.  He  tore  off  his 
collar.  Never  mind  if  Anna  were  shocked. 
He  was  boss  here. 

However,  he  did  snatch  for  the  collar  he 
had  flung  aside,  when  Anna  entered,  fol- 
lowed by  Babs. 

And  she  did  not  see  that  he  looked 
disheveled. 

She  had  learned  that  Babette  would 
never  marry:  that  she  had  nothing  in  her 
mind  but  to  study  with  Paul  for  the  next 
few  years. 

And  when,  with  much  embarrassment,  she 
had  reminded  Babs  of  her  love  for  babies, 
she  had  been  told  the  plan  of  the  orphanage. 
She  was  exasperated,  exhausted  and  dis- 
couraged. 

Now  Bomberling  heard  everything. 
Above  all  he  grasped  that  this  was  a  delay. 

165 


f'  iv^'iv-i'.  \\'-f^-^ ' 


.:., 


Babette  Bomberling 


The  girl  would  stay  with  him  and  his  worry 
about  the  dowry  was  postponed  too.  Hope 
had  come  back  to  him. 

He  smiled  contentedly  and  gave  Babette 
a  kiss. 

Babette  repeated: 

"Please  don't  be  angry  with  me."  Then 
she  scurried  back  to  Paul's  books. 

This  evening  young  Kippenbach  failed  to 
come. 

But  the  next  day  old  Kippenbach  sat  be- 
fore Bomberling  again. 

Every  deed  can  be  interpreted  variously. 

Babette's  absolute  refusal  convinced  him 
that  she  was  hopelessly  in  love  with  his  son. 

"She  is  just  a  dear  obstinate  child.  She 
doesn't  want  to  admit  it,"  said  he. 

And  then  he  produced  a  copy  of  his  bal- 
ance sheet  and  proved  anew  how  well  the 
children  were  suited  to  each  other. 

He  suggested  that  Bomberling  should 
send  his  Kttle  girl  on  a  trip.  That  was  the 
thing  to  do  in  such  cases.  Traveling  about 
puts  you  in  your  place. 

Bomberling    would    not    promise    any- 

166 


f^yTH~%-';~i"  .-■■•'.    y       ■  -       .'  ■ .  .  •  ■ivi^-;-'-  .     ■  ■■■■'<i~^''vj^:^-:^  :p.^r:j^ :^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


thing,     but    the     suggestion    bore     fruit. 

Not  that  he  wished  to  do  a  favor  to  the 
piano  manufacturer. 

He  did  not  fear  in  the  least  that  Babette 
would  suddenly  want  to  become  Mrs.  Kip- 
penbach  on  some  lovely  trip. 

But  a  journey  might  benefit  Anna's  con- 
dition. Were  not  the  doctors  always  pre- 
scribing this? 

The  atmosphere  at  home  was  murky  with 
tiu*bulence. 

Daily  he  wanted  to  tell  Anna  to  econo- 
mize a  httle,  "to  save  for  an  automobile." 
After  much  brooding  he  had  thought  of 
this  pretext,  but  he  was  apprehensive  of 
betraying  himself  in  the  discussion.  He  was 
not  accustomed  to  insincerity  with  Anna. 

Now  he  was  anxious  to  avoid  all  serious 
discussions  until  Anna  had  regained  her 
health.  A  journey  might  do  good  and  would 
give  him  respite. 

Thus  it  came  about,  that  when  Babette 
announced  excitedly  one  noon  that  Hilda 
Wagner  was  going  to  accompany  her  aunty 
to  Rome,  Bomberling  asked  her  whether 

167 


7iS^!f: 


Babette  Bomherling 


she  would  like  to  go  on  such  a  trip  too,  with 
her  mamma. 

Instantly  the  baroness'  words  flashed  into 
Mrs.  Bomberling's  mind.  All  the  fortunate 
possibilities  of  international  life?  Her  eyes 
commenced  to  glisten. 

Babette  spoke  excitedly  of  Nero,  of  St. 
Peter's  and  the  catacombs.  Then  she  re- 
membered that  all  the  flowers  blossom  at 
once  there  in  the  Spring.  Violets,  lilies-of- 
the-valley,  lilacs  and  roses — and  now 
Spring  was  coming  there. 

She  chattered  enthusiastically. 

These  words  made  Bomberiing  long  des- 
perately for  rest.  For  unworried  days.  His 
eyes  looked  far  into  space. 

Then  his  look  returned  to  the  two  blond 
heads  of  his  women.  Anna  was  already 
planning  a  bewitching  traveling  costume. 

So  the  trip  was  a  foregone  conclusion. 

Babette  intended  to  continue  her  lessons 
with  Paul  by  mail. 

The  joy  of  anticipating  the  trip  was,  how- 
ever, slightly  dampened  for  both  mother 
and  daughter. 

Mrs.  Bomberiing  had  never  stepped  be- 

168 


s*C7"'.''n' 


Babette  Bomberling 


yond   the   borders   of   her   country.      She 
dreaded  it. 

Aunt  Helen,  who  would  have  loved  to 
take  such  a  trip  immensely,  fanned  these 
apprehensions  with  all  her  might.  It  was 
her  opinion  that  home  was  the  only  safe 
place.  She  told  of  corpses  in  trunks,  of  cut- 
off hands  in  the  luggage-racks,  of  strangled 
throats  in  long  tunnels^ 

Suddenly,  Mrs.  Bomberling  did  not  see 
why  she  must  leave  her  peaceful  home,  with 
the  safety-catches  on  both  doors,  until  she 
recalled  the  international  acquaintances — 
Russian  dukes  and  Enghsh  lords.  Aunt 
Helen  would  have  to  make  a  pretty  courtesy 
when  Babette  returned,  the  bride  of  an  arch- 
duke. 

Therefore  she  interrupted  her  sister-in- 
law's  gruesome  descriptions  smihngly,  and 
said: 

"But  Spring  is  marvelous  down  there. 
You  can't  deny  that." 

With  her  sharp  shoulders,  Aunt  Helen 
dug  two  holes  into  the  air,  and  countered 
that  she  considered  all  this  fuss  about  Spring 

169 


iya»4- 


-T«-.H         ■     •.!.-  '■-•■•   ■f^,vr^•t.v^.,■^•••'T^i.■'>^■^  >:■»':    r'i*.  •■'?F\*7r' 


Babette  BomherUng 


ridiculous.     Winter  would  be  back  in  five 
months,  anyway. 

However,  she  had  not  made  Mrs.  Bom- 
berling  wholly  sick  of  the  trip.  Anna's  and 
Babette's  traveUng  wardrobe  had  turned  out 
too  well  and  becoming  for  that. 

In  the  mean  time,  Paul  was  checking  Ba- 
bette's pleasure  in  the  trip. 

He  had  declared  lessons  by  mail  impos- 
sible. Besides  he  would  no  longer  believe 
that  Babette  would  never  marry.  On  her 
journey  she  would  fall  in  love  with  the  first 
one  that  came  her  way. 

This  distrust  offended  Babs  most  intense- 
ly. She  turned  her  back  on  Paul,  and  did 
not  return  for  her  lessons  all  the  last  days 
before  her  departure. 

Paul  did  not  seem  to  miss  her. 

But  when  they  were  at  the  station  and  the 
train  was  about  to  leave,  Paul  suddenly 
stood  between  Bomberling  and  Herman  at 
the  open  door.  He  brought  a  bouquet  of 
roses  for  Anna  and  a  little  bunch  of  forget- 
me-nots  for  Babette. 

"I    didn't    want    to    be    rude    to    your 

170 


(P*^l^*«?!^r^'^.?--V-''Sr:^*T---!r  v3^^^  ■  _;  '.,     ■     -■■-'  7^T^i"--f-    ^[^: 


Bahette  Bomherling 


mother,"  whispered  Paul  while  he  gave 
Bahs  the  flowers. 

"Mamma  doesn't  seem  to  have  missed  you 
at  all,"  answered  Babs,  and  tossed  the 
flowers  to  the  rest  of  the  luggage. 

The  locomotive  whistled. 

Bomberhng  said  to  Babette : 

"Take  good  care  of  mamma." 

That  was  a  joke  that  made  them  all  laugh. 

"Have  a  good  time,"  cried  Herman  loud- 

ly.  _  _  \    :rM 

"Aufwiedersehen,"  said  Paul  softly,  but 
Babette  was  bending  out  to  smile  at  her 
father. 

The  wheels  conmienced  to  turn.  A  stiff 
smile  settled  on  all  the  faces.  The  station 
was  shding  past  and  away  from  the  train 
at  steadily  increasing  speed. 

When  cool  meadows  flew  past  outside 
Babs  took  her  httle  bunch  of  forget-me-nots. 
She  straightened  the  bent  blossoms  care- 
fully and  tucked  them  into  the  V  of  her 
dress. 

Anna  was  leaning  back  and  examining 
her  luggage.  It  looked  smart.  Her  pride 
sweUed. 


171 


■jpTS^TIrT^        *       '    -     '  ■••:■-''        -  r  T^"   .  %  •    ■  *-'  .>-!  -■-<.■•,.     I'     •■  ,       1       ■•■  ^     ,     .-■•^XE'" 


Babette  Bomherling 


She  listened  whether  the  two  ladies  who 
shared  the  compartment  with  them,  were 
remarking  BahetJe's  beauty.  She  was  de- 
lighted to  discover  that  she  could  understand 
none  of  their  words.  They  were  foreigners. 
One  felt  so  cosmopolitan.  Satisfied  she 
leaned  further  back.  Smiling,  she  bhnked 
out  at  the  world  that  danced  past. 

The  hours  rolled  with  the  wheels.  It  dark- 
ened. The  train  was  already  rushing  head- 
long through  the  black  night.  At  intervals 
a  cluster  of  lights  flashed  by.  One  house 
nestled  against  the  next,  and  where  there  was 
light  in  the  windows,  one  bed  nestled  against 
the  next.    The  world  was  the  same  all  over. 

Anna  was  sleepy  and  content  when  they 
reached  the  city  where  the  sleeper  was  at- 
tached. As(  she  stretched  herself  on  the 
narrow,  trembling  bed  she  thought  of  Bom- 
herling sitting  alone  at  the  moment  in  the 
big  dining-room.  In  that  peaceful,  un- 
changing room.  At  that  instant  she  could 
see  through  a  crack  in  the  curtain,  how  the 
lights  of  the  fleeing  train  played  on  sharp 
mountain  gulleys.  She  shrank  back  trem- 
bling.   It  was  really  incomprehensible  why 

172 


■'w*?^*^"  ■.  '     .      ."■  '■  '^'^■■"'■*        ■         -  T^v    ■'"-■  •'^c'^":Tf>^--'=^%>   ':^  -^^'"i-?:^^^''-?^^  :- 


Babette  Bomberling 


Babette  had  turned  down  that  charming 
young  Kippenbach.  How  comfortably 
they  mi^t  all  be  sitting  together  now. 

"Are  you  asleep,  Babette?"  she  asked. 

Nothing  stirred  in  the  upper  berth. 

"The  sleep  of  innocence,"  murmured 
Anna,  smiling. 

The  wheels  purred  a  slumber  song.  She 
fell  asleep. 

Her  regular  breaths  hardly  had  betrayed 
this,  when  there  were  movements  above  her. 
Babette  sat  up,  pushed  back  the  curtain  and 
stared  out. 

The  faint  moonshine  indicated  the  way. 
Mountain  torrents  raged  down,  frothing 
furiously.  Black  pines  soughed.  The  roof 
of  a  hut,  lost  again  in  the  flight,  told  that 
people  were  creeping  for  shelter  from  the 
night  even  here.  Crowns  of  ice  glistened 
on  the  hght  mountain  crags.  Wide  mead- 
ows slept  serenely  with  their  flowers,  'be- 
neath the  stars. 

Tears  dripped  from  Babette's  eyes. 

The  train  raced  on  through  the  night 
toward  the  sourt;hem  dawn,  but  when  the 
sun  rose  Babette  had  fallen  asleep  too. 

178 


'vTVfWJ?^'; , ;  .     ^--t  ■&••-'.  •  'w  •T-^»,-.-"---ri..^— J.  ,T  ^  ■•,..-  ii--,  T.-.^.!- :t>;i  Tfv  %7!."7':ri^TT'.;^.''^»»c?r7;rK^^^'<7j';(r 


Babette  Bomherling 


Neither  mother  nor  daughter  had  felt 
that  the  busy  wheels  had  stopped.  That 
people  were  no  longer  speaking  the  lan- 
guage in  which  the  Bomberlings  communi- 
cated, outside  the  curtained  windows. 

They  did  not  even  hear  the  knocking. 

Slowly  a  key  turned  in  the  lock. 

The  door  was  opened. 

Anna  awoke  and  yelled  shrilly: 

"Help,  Murder,  Help." 

She  had  visions  of  Aunt  Helen,  and  all 
the  corpses  in  trunks. 

The  man  who  entered  with  the  conductor, 
smilingly  said  a  few  pleasant-sounding 
words  and  made  little  crosses  on  their  grips 
with  chalk,  much  in  the  manner  in  which 
the  shepherd  back  in  Mrs.  Bomberling's  vil- 
lage used  to  put  marks  on  the  sheep  that 
were  to  be  slaughtered.  Then  the  men  had 
disappeared.  The  train  started  to  roll  on. 
Mrs.  Bomherling  had  passed  the  boundary. 

Babette  had  slept  through  it  all  peace- 
fully. 

"It  was  exceedingly  simple,"  Mrs.  Bom- 
herling narrated  afterwards  in  the  diner, 
when  she  had  swallowed  a  cup  of  strong 

174 


Bahette  Bomberling 


coffee.    "But  it  is  just  as  well  that  it's  over." 
Soft  meadows  stretched  beyond  the  wide 
windows.     Spring  flowers  were  absorbing 
the  delicious  sunshine. 

"The  sky  is  so  much  bluer  than  Paul's 
forget-me-nots,"  said  Babette  and  tossed  the 
wilted  flowers  out  of  the  window. 

When  the  train  was  leaving  one  of  the 
bustling  stations  a  stranger  stepped  into 
their  compartment.  He  stumbled,  stepped 
on  Anna*s  new  shoes  and  fell  over  her  knee 
into  the  seat  beyond.  Here  he  tipped  his 
hat  and  murmured,  "Conte  Spina-Spon- 
telli." 

But  we  never  appreciate  the  acquaint- 
anceships that  are  made  too  easy  for  us. 
Anna,  not  honoring  the  stranger  with  so 
much  as  a  glance,  looked  severely  at  her  new 
shoe,  which  had  gotten  scratched  diagonally 
across  its  tip. 

Not  until  they  were  a  short  distance  from 
Rome  did  she  recall  that  the  foreigner  had 
murmured  "Conte."  In  a  whisper  she  asked 
Babette  whether  conte  wasn't  count.  The 
latter  nodded. 


175 


;  T.'^^.'V^''^J 


Babette  BomherUng 


Now  Anna  looked  cautiously  at  the 
stranger. 

He  smiled  immediately.  He  asked  some- 
thing pleasantly  in  French. 

As  Babette  did  not  seem  to  hear,  Mrs. 
Bomberling  said,  pointing  at  her  breast: 

"I  do  not  understand." 

The  gentleman  now  asked  in  her  lan- 
guage, whether  the  blond  ladies  were  sisters. 

Anna  felt  that  this  was  indeed  an  aristo- 
crat. Blushing  she  explained  that  Babette 
was  her  daughter. 

The  latter  was  reading  Mommsen's  "Ro- 
man History."  She  did  not  look  up.  From 
the  very  start  she  would  prove  to  Paul  that 
the  women  of  today  keep  their  word. 

When  Anna  had  told  where  they  would 
stay,  it  appeared  the  count  was  destined  for 
the  same  pension. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  was  pleased  and  smiled. 
Entree  to  the  best  society  was  so  simple  in- 
distant  lands.  Here  there  was  no  class  dif- 
ferentiation. Here  tickets  counted.  First, 
second  and  third  class. 

And  thus  it  came  about  that  Mrs.  Bom- 

176 


■■1fVf^-f^{^^-r^-i^:'..h'-^^T^  .'■'•/'■'.'-.>'•*'    ■  ."fi;-^^'  ,. '^s;;;^**''- 


Bahette  Bomherling 


berling  rode  into  Rome  with  a  real  count 
wtih  a  double  name  at  her  side. 

Babetite  was  obKvious  to  everything  but 
the  heavy,  warm  gold  of  the  sunshine.  Fra- 
grance of  blossoms,  and  splashing  of  foun- 
tains, the  ringing  of  chimes  and  the  stirring 
melody  of  the  foreign  language  penetrated 
her  senses.  Her  bright  eyes  hung  on  the 
azure  strip  of  sky  that  bound  the  varicolored 
roofs. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  looked  about  curiously. 

"See,  how  they  have  put  up  a  ruin  directly 
by  the  station,"  she  exclaimed,  pointing  her 
umbrella  at  the  mighty  thermal  walls,  behind 
which  Emperor  Diocletian  had  given  him- 
self up  to  the  delights  of  bathing  seventeen 
hundred  years  ago. 

Coimt  Spina- Spontelli  smiled  and  said 
that  these  ruins  were  not  of  yesterday. 

Mrs.  BomberHng  tossed  up  her  head  and 
returned  that  she  had  never  supposed  that. 
That  she  knew  very  well  that  Rome  was  the 
eternal  tourist  city. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  was  on  foreign  soil.  She 
realized  this  more  distinctly  with  every 
hour. 

177 


I 


Babette  Bomherling 


Not  only  when  she  stared,  with  her  order- 
loving  eyes,  upon  the  disorder  of  the  Forum 
Romanum,  or  when  she  discovered  in  the 
Coliseum  that  here  it  had  once  been  con- 
sidered pleasure  to  toss  hving  people  to  the 
hungry  Hons.  Not  as  in  the  movies  today, 
but  really  truly. 

More  even  than  on  these  remarkable  spots, 
did  she  realize  at  meals  that  she  was  far  dis- 
tant from  Bomherling.  Although  they 
spoke  in  her  own  tongue  here. 

Since  more  than  twenty  years  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  chat  at  her  table  about 
anything  that  crossed  her  mind,  and  Bom- 
herling had  been  pleased  with  whatever  his 
Anna  had  told  him. 

Here  she  no  longer  dared  to  open  her 
mouth.  Whatever  she  said  seemed  to  be 
wrong. 

Babette's  place  was  at  the  other  end  of  the 
table,  next  Hilda  Wagner,  through  whom 
they  had  gotten  into  this  fine  pension. 

Mrs.  Bomberling's  vis-d-vis  was  Hilda's 
aunt.  The  exclusive  wife  of  the  owner  of  a 
manorial  estate,  who  received  all  communi- 
cations through  a  black  ear  trumpet.    And 

178 


Bahette  BomherUng 


all  around  her  the  people  were  talking  only 
of  rank  and  title,  with  pursed  lips  that  knew 
everything,  that  would  not  even  confuse  for- 
eign words  in  their  dreams. 

The  landed  proprietor's  lady  spoke  of 
the  reigning  princes  as  of  blood  relations. 

"Let  us  hope  William  will  get  a  good 
rest  on  his  Northcape  trip,"  she  would  say. 
With    that     she     meant     the     German 
emperor. 

When  salmon  was  served,  she  would  sigh: 
"That  was  Edward's  favorite  dish." 
And  meant  the  late  King  of  England. 

But  when  Mrs.  Bomberling  wanted  to 
show  her  social  ease  and  called  down  the 
speaking  tube,  that  Augusta  was  going  to 
take  a  "cure,"  the  haughty  dame  yanked 
the  tube  away  from  her  deaf  ear  and  cried: 

"Are  you  possibly  alluding  to  her 
Majesty,  the  German  empress?" 

Evidently,  we  have  not  all  the  same 
privileges. 

But  what  were  all  the  reigning  princelings 
of  Hilda's  aunt,  compared  to  the  many  Ro- 
man emperors  of  whom  all  the  other  guests 

179 


*^^-f^p??7 


Babette  BomberUng 


were  talking,  intimately  and  fluently  as  of 
brother  Masons. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  despaired  of  ever  learn- 
ing to  distinguish  these  many  names.  Nor 
would  she  even  if  she  should  never  return  to 
her  clean  and  orderly  home.  Why,  she 
couldn't  even  discriminate  between  the 
plaster  busts  of  these  emperors,  that  were  of 
solid  marble  here.  They  all  had  the  same 
puffed-up  hps  and  curly  hair. 

Only  one  man  was  familiar  to  her.  That 
was  Nero.  That  had  been  the  name  of  the 
night-watchman's  dog  in  her  home  town. 

It  had  been  a  real  pleasure  to  see  a  child- 
hood bust  of  this  Nero  that  very  morning. 
He  was  smiling,  exactly  as  Herman  had 
done  at  five,  when  he  had  been  given  an 
apple. 

For  this  reason  she  felt  entitled  to  put  in 
a  little  word  of  her  own  when  they  were  dis- 
cussing fearful  atrocities  of  this  Nero,  dur- 
ing dessert. 

"Be  that  as  it  may,"  she  interrupted,  "he 
must  have  been  a  charming  child." 

But  even  this  raised  the  smile  on  the 
strange  faces,  that  every  remark  of  hers 

180 


■^7j^:^_^^-^iv--'^r^^  ;'V»v-*'    "-Fi  r-'^Ts'-^    .    ■  .T'^*^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


would  bring  now.  Ever  since  she  had  pre- 
sumed that  the  coliseum  had  been  an  antique 
cinematograph. 

To  see  everything  was  difficult,  but  to  re- 
member everything  was  a  far  greater  strain. 

The  trip  was  a  fearful  exertion  anyway. 
From  morning  till  night  they  ran  about  in 
little  groups,  ever  to  gaze  upon  more  broken 
figures.  Even  the  few  young  men  that  were 
along  had  eyes  only  for  this  old  rubbish  and 
not  for  Babette,  who  was  getting  prettier 
every  day.    There  seemed  no  sense  to  it. 

Nor  did  the  count  show  up  except  at 
meals.  He  said  that  he  knew  Rome  "like  his 
own  pockets."  He  might  as  well  have  added 
"and  as  the  pockets  of  others."  But  Mrs. 
Bomherling  was  not  to  find  that  out  until 
later.  i 

You  can  easily  see  that  with  all  this  con- 
tinued scampering  around  under  the  hot  sun, 
Mrs.  Bomherling  was  inclined  to  think  with 
increasing  tenderness  of  Babette's  rejected 
suitor,  young  Kippenbach  and  his  piano  fac- 
tory. Was  not  music  the  source  of  all  joy? 

They  were  standing  before  the  statue  of 
Apollo  Belvedere,  which  the  lady  of  the  man- 

181 


'Wf!5W^"    '•■-•-'■''■      ■■■■■  '■        ■<■■■"'■'      -'  .  ■        ■^:.^'  ■'^■'-- ^\. ■■-:,:'■'! /^^tyi^-r;: 


Bahette  Bomherling 


orial  estates  had  just  designated  as  the  proto- 
type of  masculine  beauty. 

The  pleasure  derived  from  a  work  of  art 
varies. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  said:  "I  don't  know,  but 
young  Mr.  Kippenbach  pleases  me  more 
than  this  Apollo.  We  might  at  least -send 
him  a  picture  post-card." 

She  poked  her  lorgnette  to  the  right  to 
tap  Babette,  the  latter  was  not  stand- 
ing next  to  her  at  all  but  at  a  distance,  wholly 
absorbed  by  the  beauty  before  her. 

However,  there  were  marble  statues  that 
made  a  deep  impression  on  Mrs.  Bomber- 
hng  too. 

In  a  niche  of  St.  Peter's,  she  suddenly 
came  upon  a  Maria  with  the  dead  Savior  on 
her  knees.  She  stared  long  at  Mother  and 
Son.  She  was  led  to  think  of  the  New 
Year's  Morn  when  Herman  hadn't  come 
home.    Hot  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

And  she  did  not  even  know  that  it  was  a 
masterpiece  of  Michael  Angelo's. 

Sheer  horror  gripped  her  before  the  group 
of  Laocoon.  The  bearded  man  struggling 
in  vain  to  escape  the  awful  snakes,  bore  a 

182 


W  '""^ 


Bahette  BomherUng 


resemblance  to  Bomberling.  She  stared  at 
the  group  with  fear  and  horror,  while  the 
lady  of  the  manorial  estates  reverently 
whispered  to  her  that  this  was  something  par- 
ticularly beautiful. 

When  she  was  back  in  her  room  hot  and 
exhausted,  she  read  up  what  her  guide-book 
had  to  say  about  this  snake  man. 

One  of  the  many  gods  that  were  supposed 
to  exist  formerly,  had  sent  the  vile  snake 
upon  the  neck  of  the  man  and  his  young 
sons,  out  of  pure  revenge. 

She  feared  for  Bomberling,  who  was  so 
deserted. 

And  when  she  lay  down  for  her  noon  nap, 
it  was  a  source  of  deep  comfort  to  her  that 
there  was  only  one  God  today,  and  snakes 
only  in  the  most  wild  and  remote  regions. 

Babs  would  put  down  her  impressions  of 
the  trip  while  her  mother  slumbered.  And 
that,  in  truth,  for  Paul. 

A  few  postal  cards  had  created  a  bridge. 
Now  they  exchanged  daily  letters. 

Paul  knew  the  monuments  of  art  as 
though  he  were  born  in  Rome.  His  letters 
were  minutely  detailed  guides.    From  them 

183 


'»^#4j|!m'-"7'  .         .        '       ■  "    •  •  ■      -v'.::>.^-  ••         -.    1  .->;.,.'--. M  ; J. •  ■:  - ,f^ ■',-f.-"^yf';^;r 


Babette  Bomberling 


Babette  felt  the  intense  yearning  her  friend 
had  for  this  city  of  wonders.  Thus  it  came 
about  that  she  had  to  think  of  Paul  with 
every  beautiful  thing  she  saw. 

After  visiting  the  Sistine  chapel,  she  had 
asked  him  whether  he  knew  anything  of 
Michael  Angelo's  mother?  It  must  be  an 
infinite  joy  to  have  presented  such  a  man 
to  the  world.  But  one  had  to  be  a  woman 
worthy  of  this  honor. 

Today  Paul  had  answered,  he  believed 
that  very  simple  people  could  have  remark- 
able children,  if  only  their  innermost  wishes 
are  not  low,  but  are  big  and  splendid.  For 
children  are  the  desires  of  their  parents 
come  to  life. 

As  for  example — he  could  well  imagine 
that  his  son  might  bring  the  great  gift  of 
artistic  achievement,  for  which  he  himself 
had  longed  so  desperately,  as  a  finished  tal- 
ent into  the  world. 

And  then  he  begged  to  be  pardoned  for 
having  gone  so  into  detail,  on  a  subject  that 
could  have  only  a  purely  theoretical  inter- 
est for  Babette,  who  would  never  marry. 

But  Babs  had  reread  this  letter  repeated- 

184 


?^s"*        v;.-    -  ■  ■.     '       - -.   ■■■  -.  ■-'  -y  ■  '  \\  -:  rf;  z/'-       '.^•'.■^^^^■''7^^^  yr-  -^^ff^r^^^    ^'*^^' 


Bahette  Bomherling 


ly.  He  had  thoroughly  upset  her  happy, 
animated  thoughts. 

That  Paul  should  consider  love  and  mar- 
riage and  even  children  for  himself,  had 
never  crossed  her  thoughts.  She  had  con- 
sidered him  much  too  fastidious  for  that. 

Now  she  suspected  that  he  was  secretly 
engaged. 

She  got  out  his  previous  letters  and  sat 
down  by  the  window  that  gave  her  a  wide 
view  of  the  somber  Campagna. 

Actually.  Every  letter  bore  isome  re- 
mark about  love  or  belonging  together. 

It  was  evident.    He  loved  someone. 

Babs  realized  that  her  duty  as  a  friend 
demanded  that  she  call  Paul's  attention  to 
the  dangers  of  marriage  and  to  prevent  his 
becoming  an  ordinary  family  papa.  He 
was  too  good  for  that. 

An  honest  rage  at  the  modern  young 
girl's  craze  to  get  married  rose  in  her. 

In  the  meanwhile  she  postponed  the  an- 
swer to  this  very  important  letter.  Instead 
she  wrote  into  her  diary  in  black  letters : 

"The  fate  of  lonesomeness  is  destined  for 
me." 


185 


^TwrenpsTfi^ri 


Bahette  Bomherling 


As  she  was  about  to  reread  the  beauti- 
fully sounding  sentence,  a  knock  sounded 
on  the  door. 

The  chambermaid  announced  that  a 
friend  of  the  ladies  Bomherling  was  calhng. 
Bahette  stepped  into  the  reception-room  of 
the  pension. 

There  stood  Christian  Sebold  in  the  glory 
of  his  most  beautifully  striped  vest,  and 
crushed  her  Uttle  hand  in  hearty  greeting. 

From  Aunt  Helen,  Christian  Sebold  had 
heard  that  Bahette  refused  an  offer  of  mar- 
riage.   Hence  her  heart  was  no  longer  free. 

This  had  surprised  Aimt  Helen  immense- 
ly, for  Bahette  only  knew  Christian  Sebold 
besides  that  young  man. 

Christian  had  brushed  up  his  vigorous 
moustache,  and  said  to  himself  that  between 
Bologna  and  Naples,  between  Mortadella 
and  Salami,  lies  Rome.  He  had  made  a 
little  business  trip. 

Here  he  was. 

Mrs.  'Bomherling  was  awakened.  She 
was  much  touched  to  see  someone  here  in 
this  queer  land,  who  knew  Bomherling  and 

186 


f  YT^'    — j.-^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


Aunt  Helen  and  her  whole  precious  "at 
home." 

She  pressed  Sebold's  mighty  hand  heart- 
ily. She  would  have  Hked  most  to  say 
"yes"  immediately;  for  what  else  could 
have  brought  the  fine  young  man  so  far? 

Sebold  intended  to  spend  three  days  in 
Rome.  He  knew  exactly  what  he  wished 
to  see. 

First,  the  buffalo  herds  in  the  Campagna. 
Second,  the  gruesome  prisons  of  the  perse- 
cuted Christians,  away  under  the  earth. 
Third,  a  real  Itahan  vaudeville. 

This  very  afternoon  he  wanted  to  visit 
several  of  the  catacombs.  If  possible, 
those  where  there  were  plenty  of  skeletons. 

When  he  renewed  the  acquaintance  of 
Hilda  Wagner  at  tea,  and  was  introduced 
to  her  aunt  of  the  manorial  estates,  he  in- 
cluded these  ladies  in  the  invitation  to  take 
a  drive  with  him. 

As  they  rode  down  the  Via  Appia,  the 
lady  of  the  estates  said  sadly: 

"How  Letitia  loved  to  drive  along  here 
at  this  hour." 

With  that  she  meant  Napoleon's  mother, 

187 


v.-,ar" -;t7,_-;->   —,-;];,■'  -•■-"        .     ■      -■  -j  -     ..r.v     ,—    -^^       ;,  .  .■      ■     .r".  ^.'  I.      ■"     •"  C"  ."'^Tl* 


Bahette  BomberUng 


who  had  died  three-quarters  of  a  century 
ago. 

Christian  Sebold's  glance  was  following 
a  fleeing  buffalo.  Aloud,  he  reckoned  the 
number  of  pounds  of  sausage  such  a  beast 
would  give. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  looked  alarmed  in  the 
direction  of  the  haughty  dame.  She  feared 
this  coarse  topic  would  offend  the  refined 
lady. 

But  the  lady  still  held  the  hearer  to  her 
ear,  and  smiled  as  though  she  had  heard 
something  exceptionally  pleasant.  For  this 
Mr,  Sebold  came  in  the  nick  of  time  for 
her. 

This  morning  they  had  written  her  that 
Hilda's  brother  Fred  had  received  his  dis- 
charge and  slipped  off  to  America,  without 
honor  or  money,  but  with  a  cloak  model. 

With  that,  poor  Hilda's  chances  of  mak- 
ing a  suitable  match  were  destroyed  for  the 
time  being.  Now  she  would  be  lucky  if  she 
were  married  off  at  all. 

This  sausage  manufacturer  was  wealthy, 
something  that  was  perhaps  more  practical 
today    than    ancestors.    They    themselves 

188 


t<' -■.-£-»      ,-»■•*  "••      "  W^^n  *""  ■»     ~V^f^« 


Babette  Bomberling 


had  prestige  and  connections,  would  simply 
have  him  made  a  Privy  Councillor  with 
some  hig  donation. 

And  again,  smiling  across  at  Mr.  Sebold, 
she  said: 

"August  is  extraordinarily  interested  in 
cattle  raising,  too." 

And  meant  the  King  of  Saxony. 

Christian  Sebold  was  immensely  flattered 
to  be  brought  into  such  close  relation  to 
the  highest  personalities. 

Hilda  Wagner  pleased  him  more  with 
every  hour. 

He  hoped  he  pleased  her,  too.  He  could 
afford  to  forego  a  dowry.  If  he  might  then 
belong  to  thisi  .fine  family,  for  whom  his 
mother  had  had  to  do  menial  service ! 

From  whose  kitchen,  he  had  hungrily  de- 
voured the  leftovers,  when  he  was  a  child. 

He  prolonged  his  stay.  They  made  ex- 
cursions.   It  got  warmer  from  day  to  day. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  suffered  a  lot  from  the 
heat.  She  longed  to  go  home,  but  she  did 
not  want  to  impede  her  own  aspirations. 
That  Christian  Sebold  was  paying  much  at- 
tention to  Hilda  did  not  bother  her  in  the 

189 


'.r'i'^n'.'i 


Babette  Bomberling 


least.  No  one  was  more  desirable  than 
Babette.  But  she  had  her  doubts  whether 
the  sausage  maker  had  not  made  his  long 
trip  in  vain,  for  nowadays  the  count  with 
the  hard-to-remember  double  name  was  al- 
ways along.  And  wherever  he  was,  another 
young  man,  who  called  himself  Dr.  Hilpert, 
was  sure  to  appear. 

Countess  Babette — Mrs.  Dr.  Babette — 

Mrs.  Bomberling  worried  through  many 
hours,  with  plans  and  euphonious  words — 
she  reflected  what  would  be  better,  what 
would  sound  better. 

Bomberling  had  written  several  times 
whether  they  weren't  coming  home.  He  was 
tired  and  feared  he  was  going  to  be  sick 
without  his  Anna  near  him.  Anna's  heart 
became  heavy.  But  she  couldn't  leave. 
They  would  have  to  remain  at  least  another 
week. 

Mother  love  is  stronger  than  any  other 
kind. 

Babette  had  now  rendered  Paul  the.  great 
service  of  friendship,  and  warned  him 
against  marriage  in  a  lengthy  epistle.  She 
had  called  his  attention  to  the  fact  that  most 


190 


Wf^.      '  '"■  ■•"•■'.•      ,      --.;•■        ■-       ■\:\^^-^- '  •^y'-'::.':Z^::^}i^~v^r'^-''^^^''      '•■;       .■!?-?*■'-■■      --T..      -'" 


Bahette  Bomherling 


girls  get  fat  and  quarrelsome  when  mar- 
ried. That  a  married  man  isn't  a  man  at 
aU. 

Her  mood  became  merry  again  after  she 
had  dispatched  this  letter.  Accomplished 
duties  bring  joy. 

Whereas  Hilda  Wagner  went  about 
with  tear-stained  eyes. 

She  had  been  informed  of  her  brother's 
nasty  folly.  When  she  told  Babette  of  this 
misfortime  with  tears,  the  latter  began  to 
weep,  too. 

They  sat  in  the  salon  of  the  pension,  in 
front  of  the  Chinese  screen  under  several 
potted  palms,  and  Babette  confessed!  be- 
tween sobs  what  a  sad  adventure  she  had 
had  with  Lieutenant  Freddy.  How,  due 
to  him,  she  had  sworn  never  to  trust  any 


man. 


Poor  Babs,"  said  Hilda,  tenderly.  "But 
you  will  be  all  the  happier  with  some  one 
else.  I,  however" — and  she  sobbed  again — 
"I  shall  have  to  be  the  fifth  wheel  all  my 
life.  With  this  scandal  on  the  honor  of  the 
family,  I  shall  never  get  a  husband." 
"I'll  bet  you  do  get  one,"  a  strong  voice 

191 


"r*ir'^ 


—  *  - ^  J^T""^  ■^•gRjspi^;? ■ 


Bahette  Bomherling 


said  from  behind  the  Chinese  screen,  and, 
upset  by  all  the  maidenly  despair,  Christian 
Sebold  came  stamping  out  from  his  hiding- 
place.  Without  any  fuss,  he  gathered  slim 
Hilda  against  his  wide,  gay  vest. 

Never  before  had  the  lady  of  the  mano- 
rial estates,  beamed  with  such  graciousness 
and  equality  into  Mrs.  Bomberling's  face  as 
at  the  moment  when  she  acknowledged 
Anna's  congratulations. 

But  that  was  cold  comfort  for  Mrs.  Bom- 
herling. Her  Babette  had  been  shghted. 
That  hurt  bitterly. 

In  Cicero's  Tusculum,  she  explained  once 
more  in  detail  the  vast  size  of  her  husband's 
factory  to  the  count  and  to  the  young  doc- 
tor. She  declared  that,  at  home  Babette  was 
surrounded  by  suitors  as  here  the  flowers  by 
gnates  and  flies. 

And  on  her  return  from  this  expedition 
she  sent  a  card,  which  pictured  the  whole  of 
Rome,  with  a  friendly  greeting  to  young  Mr. 
Kippenbach. 

Tn  the  evening  she  again  gathered  all  her 
energy  to  creep  at  least  once  around  the 
room.    Of  late  she  had  been  neglecting  her 

192 


Babette  BomberUng 


"cure"  a  bit.  With  horror  this  was  recalled  to 
her  today,  when  the  Count  remarked  that 
in  his  family  there  was  no  corpulence.  That 
fine  races  do  not  put  on  .flesh. 

Breathless,  the  faithful  mother  lay  in  bed 
at  last. 

Then  she  took  her  guide-book  and  tried  to 
memorize  the  seven  hills  of  Rome:  "Aven- 
tine,  Esquiline,  CapitoUne— 


»» 


It  was  hard  I  But  even  the  doctor  was  a 
well-educated  man.  He  would  surely  ap- 
preciate the  value  of  such  knowledge. 


Babette  wanted  to  kiss  her  mother  good- 
night, but  sneaked  away  when  she  heard 
the  murmuring.  She  did  not  wish  to  dis- 
turb her  mother's  prayers. 

"Aventine,  Esquihne,  Capitoline,  Palan- 
tine."  At  last  she  put  out  the  Ught.  She 
thought  it  would  have  been  much  simpler 
if  they  had  built  this  Rome  on  a  flat  field 
as  so  many  other  pleasant  cities.  The  name 
of  the  seventh  hill  had  again  escaped  her. 

Dreams  carry  us  to  strange  lands.  Yet 
Mrs.  Bomberling  had  not  wholly  lost  re- 
ality, when  she  sprang  up  from  her  slum- 

193 


•;;.  •■  <.»i^;',t«»'ir'»:, 


Babette  BomherUng 


bers.     Something  had  moved  in  the  room. 

By  the  light  of  the  night  lamp  she  saw 
Comit  Spina- Spontelli  step  out  of  the  ward- 
robe door. 

"Is  it  you  Count?"  asked  Mrs.  Bomher- 
Ung pleasantly.  And  wondered  that  the 
Coimt  should  come  to  ask  for  Babette's 
hand  at  such  an  unearthly  hour. 

Then  to  her  horror  she  saw  the  Count 
draw  a  revolver. 

At  the  same  moment,  however,  another 
man  stepped  out  of  the  door  behind  that 
wardrobe.  Babette's  second  suitor,  charm- 
ing Dr.  Hilpert.  Before  Mrs.  Bomberling 
could  make  out  which  of  the  two  she  would 
prefer  as  a  son-in-law,  Dr.  Hilpert  had 
snatched  the  revolver  from  Count  Spina- 
Spontelli  and  snapped  handcuffs  on  his 
wrists. 

"Pardon  the  slight  disturbance — ^you  will 
be  informed  of  everything  in  the  morning," 
said  he  with  a  bow  towards  Mrs.  Bomber- 
ling's  bed. 

Then  both  men  had  disappeared. 

But  Mrs.  Bomberling  had  no  time  to 
wait.    She  shrieked  and  rang,  till  the  entire 

194 


■  .^^/^■'■'f  r;^'- 


Babette  BomherUng 


pension  was  aroused.  That  very  night  they 
all  heard  the  entire  story.  The  count  was 
a  long  sought  swindler  with  the  easily  pro- 
nounceable name  of  Weber.  In  Dr.  Hil- 
pert,  however,  they  had  had  a  clever  secret- 
service  man  as  an  acquaintance.  Verily,  on 
a  jouraey  there  are  adventures. 

They  all  surrounded  Mrs.  Bomberling 
and  congratulated  her  on  her  fortunate  res- 
cue. With  tears  in  her  eyes  she  received 
these  many  kindnesses. 

Other  causes;  other  good  wishes. 

No  one  went  to  bed  again  that  night. 
Tea  was  prepared  and  gradually  the  gath- 
ering developed  into  a  jolly  little  party. 
Conversation  was  lively  from  the  very  start. 
Each  one  had  a  special  anecdote  about  swin- 
dlers and  hotel  thieves  to  narrate. 

Hilda  Wagner  slipped  her  shm  hands 
into  Sebold's  big  fist.  She  knew  she  had 
a  protector  on  this  uncertain  earth  now. 

Only  Mrs.  Bomberling  and  Babette  had 
no  share  in  this  general  fun.  They  were 
packing.  Mrs.  Bomberling  wanted  to  leave 
with  the  first  morning  train. 

She  had  no  further  use  for  this  place. 

195 


'sm^: 


Babette  Bomherling 


The  telegram  for  dear  Bomberling  was 
written  already. 

Morning  came.  It  got  light.  But  Mrs. 
Bomberling  did  not  calm  down  until  she 
sat  in  the  train.  When  the  wheels  started, 
she  was  overcome  with  emotion.  Her  face 
buried  in  her  handkerchief,  she  sobbed: 

"Even  Napoleon  will  have  changed  in 
this  long,  long  time." 

Babette's  glances  sought  the  curve  of  a 
great  dome,  that  stayed  further  and  fur- 
ther behind  in  the  bright  sunshine. 

Bomberling  sat  in  his  office  and  looked 
through  his  morning  mail. 

Several  telegrams  that  he  had  hastily 
opened  confirmed  his  fears. 

The  work  of  his  life  could  be  held  no 
longer. 

The  peace  of  Europe  was  fragile.  There 
were  no  longer  any  bonds  or  cash  to  bridge 
this  difficult  period. 

Slowly  he  opened  Mrs.  Bomberling's  last 
letter  from  Rome.  In  all  these  troublesome 
weeks  Anna  had  written  only  of  things 
which  had  never  concerned  his  life — on 
which  he  had  never  spent  a  thought.    These 

196 


;f??t}f,?>^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


letters  dwelt  on  bathing  establishments  of 
long-gone  Roman  Emperors,  of  water- 
works that  had  crmnbled  and  were  out  of 
order  since  the  birth  of  Christ,  or  of  dam- 
aged marble  statues. 

And  unfortunately  also  of  attractive 
young  men. 

Today's  writing  did  not  vary  from  the 
former  ones.  First,  Anna  told  of  the  mar- 
velous bathing  arrangements  of  an  Em- 
peror Hadrian,  then,  besides  the  ItaUan 
count,  who  was  always  mentioned,  a  charm- 
ing young  doctor  was  lauded. 

Anna  did  not  as  yet  seem  to  have  recov- 
ered. 

Outside  the  rain  was  splashing  down. 
The  sky  was  as  gray  as  in  Autunm.  Spring 
should  have  come  long  ago.  But  this  year 
nothing  was  as  it  should  be. 

A  hopeless  dejection  settled  on  Bomber- 
ling.  He  could  see  no  comforting  ray. 
Only  the  tenaciously  unpardoning  demands 
of  an  endless  drudgery  hung  over  him. 

Anna  and  Babette  would  return,  still 
finer  ladies  than  when  they  had  left.    Some 

197 


'    ,:-  -,,^-ir/^  .   ;•  \'-  •,7''--r»-^sv'.:T.^»-i.-jr;^^yTWSJf^^ 


■TW!r*^!?!«F 


Bahette  BomberUng 


slicked-up  foreigner  would  come  and  fetch 
Babette  and  demand  funds.  Money  that  no 
longer  existed.  And  Herman?  At  the  end 
of  the  month  he  would  lightly  confess  an- 
other new  Uttle  burden  of  debts  that  his 
father  was  to  pay.  To  tell  the  boy:  "It's 
over."  To  hear  Anna's  awful  howl  when 
she  discovered  that  they  were  again  in  the 
position  in  which  they  had  been  when  they 
were  married.  He  was  no  longer  yoimg 
enough  for  that. 

Bomberling  opened  his  desk  slowly.  He 
got  out  the  policy  that  insured  his  life  at  a 
high  figure.  In  these  times  there  was  many 
a  man  who  understood  how  to  help  his  dear 
pnes  at  the  right  moment  to  their  only  sal- 
vation. 

He  commenced  to  read  the  conditions 
through.  But  the  letters  twitched  and 
twirled  and  became  confused. 

As  with  a  bolt,  a  fact  suddenly  struck  him 
that  he  had  never  noticed  before.  The  great 
big  building,  in  the  midst  of  which  he  sat, 
was  filled  with  waiting  cofiins. 

His  throat  was  being  strangled  by  an  in- 
sane craving  for  air,  he  longed  for  light,  for 

198 


5?™*irT'  ^^•»3- T;  ^ '  ^  ■-■••'■   ^T^-;.  ■"•■;-  -.-rp--'~-.-?^-,>-:    'w^*.»;y;s^?:>^jg^ii;^3f^|yi73f'JV'^>^;?--"?^^ 


Bahette  BomherUng 


Arma's  blond  hair,  the  laughter  of  his  chil- 
dren and  all  the  past  comfort  and  happi* 
ness.  Boiling,  his  blood  rushed  into  his  ach- 
ing head,  where  numbers  topped  numbers, 
towering  into  mathematical  problems  that 
could  never  be  solved. 

When  the  bookkeeper  brought  the  wire 
that  announced  Anna's  and  Babs's  coming, 
he  found  Bomberling  on  the  floor,  breath- 
ing heavily. 

By  the  sparseness  of  the  fields  they  could 
see  that  they  were  nearing  the  metropolis. 
Mrs.  Bomberling  scrambled  among  her 
bags.  She  wanted  to  make  sure  that  none 
of  the  pretty  things  she  was  bringing  her 
dear  August  were  broken. 

First  she  unwrapped  a  little  marble  fig- 
ure. It  was  the  Esquiline  Venus,  parlor 
size.  Bomberling  was  to  put  her  on  his  desk. 
Even  if  he  were  not  interested  in  art,  he 
would  have  to  acknowledge  how  praise- 
worthy it  is  that  someone  could  imitate  the 
human  form  so  accurately. 

A  second  packet  contained  a  small  cast 
of  the  Roman  she-wolf  with  the  sucking 

199 


Babette  Bomherling 


boys,  Romulus  and  Remus.  When  she 
bought  it,  she  had  really  been  under  the 
impression  that  the  children  were  a  boy  and 
a  girl.  Because  she  had  thought  that  the 
wolf  represented  the  nurse  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet.  These  old  tales  were  always  being 
confused.  But  Bomherling  would  be  pleased 
with  it  this  way,  too. 

She  could  scarce  wait  till  she  might  un- 
burden all  her  new  knowledge  to  him,  and 
at  last  be  able  to  chatter  freely  again. 

The  train  thundered  into  the  terminal. 
Her  eyes  brimming  with  tears,  Mrs.  Bom- 
berhng  waved  her  handkerchief  to  the  black 
crowd  that  was  waiting  there. 

At  last  they  descried  Paul  in  the  swarm- 
ing mass. 

There  were  sharp  lines  about  his  mouth, 
and  he  attempted  an  ineffective  smile.  He 
said  Bomberhng  was  in  bed,  suffering  from 
a  sUght  cold.    Herman  had  stayed  with  him. 

Pleasantly  excited,  Anna  talked  animat- 
edly of  camomile  tea  and  locorice  syrup. 
She  would  have  her  Bomherling  cured  in  a 
jiffy.  Now  she  was  back  at  last. 

But  when  Herman  burst  on  her  at  the 

200 


F?y^5f^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


apartment  door,  crpng  like  a  baby,  exactly 
as  he  had  done  when  in  his  boyhood  his  pet 
squirrel  had  died — ^then  she  knew  that  some- 
thing terrible  must  have  happened. 

She  ran  into  the  bedroom. 

Bomberling  rested  with  closed  eyes  under 
the  protection  of  the  chubby  gilded  angel 
that  he  had  carved  himself.  Numbers  and 
figures  passed  over  his  damp,  bluish  Ups. 
He  was  reckoning  and  calculating. 

Mrs.  Bomberling's  hfe  had  changed  be- 
tween two  breaths. 

She  had  forgotten  that  the  world  was 
full  of  distinguished  and  wealthy  young 
men,  to  be  converted  into  sons-in-law. 

She  did  not  feel  Aunt  Helen's  bony  arm 
around  her  shoulders  and  comforting  ex- 
planations that  everyone  must  work  him- 
self to  death  in-  order  to  live. 

She  was  not  flattered  when  her  friend, 
the  widow,  approached  her,  weepingly  of- 
fered to  call  her  by  her  first  name  and  re- 
called that  her  late  lamented  had  to  lie  on 
his  bed  of  pain  fifteen  years  only  to  be 
forced  to  arise  when  the  Almighty  called. 

201 


^V^V^  •      ■  '-'    "^  ■     ■     ■  .         ■  I  ■■•■>..■.■,;-      *         '".;V  ■;■  TT  "y^ii 


Babette  Bomherling 


It  was  all  as  inconsequent  to  her  as  the 
seven  dijfificult  names  of  the  seven  Roman 
hills  which  had  escaped  her  again. 

She  wanted  nothing  further  than  that 
Bomherling  should  open  his  eyes  and  say 
"Mousy." 

She  waited  for  this  and  she  would  not 
budge  from  his  bed  by  day  or  night. 

She  did  not  notice  the  lines  being  drawn 
in  Babette's  soft  face. 

She  did  not  see  Herman  sitting  among 
his  books  like  a  great,  helpless  ly)y,  his  eyes 
all  swollen.  She  wouldn't  endure  anyone 
in  the  room. 

The  grown-up  children  seemed  strangers 
to  her.  For  in  the  void  of  the  long  hours, 
while  she  caressingly  brushed  Bomber- 
ling's  tangled  hair  that  had  gotten  thin  and 
gray,  in  order  to  renew  the  ice  bags,  she 
saw  her  August,  as  he  had  come  to  fetch 
her  for  marriage,  young,  with  blond  hair 
and  laughing  eyes.  What  did  the  children 
know  of  that? 

While  she  sat  silently  beside  the  heavily 
breathing  man,  her  thoughts  skipped  into 
the  past. 

202 


|gj^^.-_ic.;;-.-  ■  ■;:>;■■,'■  'i'i  'T-'C    ■.' '  ;-■  -  V  ••<':-««^-    .  ::r^.^'■-^\,■:■:lfj,'■t••^,v:r^/^r^■>."^^f^J^t::^i'^7K■•,''TJl•'^.-:■  'inyjis' 


Babette  Bomherling 


The  crack  of  a  whip  outside  reminded 
her  so  vividly  of  the  bright  summer  morn- 
ing when  they  sat  in  the  carriage,  the  col- 
ored boxes  of  linen  on  behind  and  the  un- 
known monster  city  ahead. 

The  cry  of  a  child  recalled  the  nights 
when  Bomherling,  whistling  softly,  would 
carry  shrieking  Herman,  so  that  his  Anna 
might  slumber.  The  great  day  came  back 
to  her,  too,  when  August  had  laughingly 
pinched  her  cheek  and  said: 

"Now  we  belong  in  the  front  row.  The 
finest  people  will  have  to  bow  to  our  chil- 
dren some  day." 

First  she  had  thought  he  was  joking.  Buf 
then  she  had  wept  for  joy. 

"Silly,  vain  goosy,"  he  had  scolded  her. 
"But  laughed  broadly  therewith,  and,  heavy 
as  she  was,  he  had  picked  her  up  and  swung 
her  around  the  room. 

With  a  smile  about  her  mouth,  she  got 
up  to  renew  the  bandage  on  the  old  man's 
burning  forehead. 

Then  she  dreamt  on  in  the  quiet,  dark- 
ened room. 

She   remembered    distinctly   when    they 

203 


, :  / ,  «• ..  ■—.  '■^j' ...s-sF|jr7f 


Babette  BomberUng 


moved  into  a  more  fashionable  street,  how 
she  distributed  a  lot  of  her  old  furniture 
among  her  delighted  neighbors.  But  after 
that  period  her  memory  came  upon  a  gap. 
It  was  as  though  August  had  not  been  with 
them  from  there  on.  Only  the  children  were 
there.     The  children. 

For  this  reason  her  memory  always 
turned  back  here. 

They  were  paving  the  street  below.  The 
heavy  blows  took  her  back  to  the  smithy. 

Thus  the  hours  passed  by. 

Until  one  bright  morning,  when  Bomber- 
ling  opened  his  eyes  and  with  a  heavy 
tongue,  said : 

"Anna?" 

Then  he  fell  asleep  again.  But  his  breath 
came  more  regularly. 

Shortly  after  that  Paul  rapped  gently  on 
the  door  of  the  quiet  room.  He  begged 
Mrs.  Bomberling  to  come  for  a  brief  con- 
ference. 

Several  things  required  her  signature. 
She  took  her  place  at  the  large  dining- 
table,  between  Babette  and  Herman.    Paul 

204 


P?-! 


Babette  BomherUng 


paced  the  room  excitedly.  The  rest  of  the 
apartment  seemed  to  have  died  out. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  was  smiling. 

"He  has  opened  his  eyes  and  recognized 
me,"  she  said.  Her  smile  deepened.  She 
seemed  to  lose  herself  in  her  smile — ^the  chil- 
dren wept. 

"The  situation  is  actually  this,"  began 
Paul — "the  factory  has  been  shut  down. 
There  is  the  possibiUty  that — that — a  great 
deal  of  money  will  be  lost — ^that  your  cir- 
cumstances will — suffer  a  severe  change, 
dearest  Auntie." 

"How  long  I  hadn't  seen  his  eyes !  They 
were  really  not  changed  a  bit."  Mrs.  Bom- 
berling was  murmuring  with  the  same  smile 
playing  about  her  mouth. 

Then  she  looked  up.  She  felt  some  an- 
swer was  expected  of  her.   She  said: 

"Do  whatever  you  think  best.  You  are 
clever  and  well-trained.  When  papa  is  well 
again  he  will  put  everything  to  rights." 

She  got  up. 

"Perhaps  he'll  awaken  again  soon.  Then 
I  must  be  there." 

She  went  out  on  tiptoe.     Smiling. 

205 


*->,;'J5=fr' 


Bahette  Bomberling 


"She  doesn't  even  look  at  us  any  more," 
sobbed  Babs,  and  threw  herself  over  the 
table. 

"Possibly  we  don't  understand  what  it 
means  to  be  man  and  wife,"  said  Paul  slow- 
ly, looking  earnestly  at  Babette. 

Then  Herman  sneaked  out  and  left  the 
two  alone. 


Life  hurries  on  and  does  not  wait.  We 
have  to  put  ourselves  to  an  effort  if  we  want 
to  keep  up  a  little  longer. 

Bomberling  had  recognized  Anna  sitting 
by  his  bed.  He  gathered  all  his  strength  to 
return  to  consciousness. 

He  groped  a  little  nearer  health  daily. 

He  sat  up  in  bed;  in  a  chair  at  his  side  sat 
Anna.  On  the  night  table  stood  the  Ksqui- 
line  Venus,  next  the  Roman  she-wolf. 

One  morning  a  letter  lay  among  these. 
It  contained  a  few  lines  from  Herman.  He 
told  his  father  not  to  worry  about  him,  he 
would  gladly  give  up  studying.  Father 
should  do  naught  but  get  well. 

All  this  day  he  did  not  show  up  at  the 
bedside. 

206 


i^^rvi:hi,i 


'g!pijs?^?irs™™ i-'c^-Tir^-  V !  ~  ■    '•yK^vw^'yv^'j'i-A-'^^^^  ■■. ■    - ' kw;:-.:- ■XKr*7^=^.    ^t'''^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


Bomberling  should  have  liked  to  tell  him 
that  he  was  happy  that  his  big,  learned  boy 
still  cared  for  him. 

But  now  he  attempted  to  catch  up  with 
Ufe  again  with  the  first  faltering  steps.  His 
old  energy  helped  him  in  this.  Soon  he 
could  shuffle  to  the  balcony.  He  would  sit 
between  the  pelargonia  and  the  canary 
cage,  staring  into  the  blue  sky  or  watching 
Anna,  who  was  sewing. 

It  was  May.  Napoleon  was  warbling  his 
songs  as  though  he  were  swinging  on  a  blos- 
soming lilac  twig. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  had  also  awakened  to 
life  again. 

"I  am  surprised  young  Mr.  Kippenbach 
does  not  inquire  about  you,"  said  she. 

"Pray  don't  begin  to  think,"  answered 
Bomberling,  closing  his  eyes.  He  seemed 
to  be  slumbering.  In  reality,  however,  he 
was  calculating,  fcecretly.  '^Since  days  he 
had  been  at  this  labor  again.  He  knew  Paul 
was  endeavoring  to  save  the  firm.  He  was 
trying  to  form  a  stock  company.  An  un- 
known force  seemed  to  have  called  forth 
gigantic  strength  in  the  boy, 

207 


.-r^T^ijy-,*, '■••         -.  ■.  -  .       •   ■  •■    ,  •-  .-.■■■..'  .'"■•,    -^'-.        ■■'■■■■-'''Y.'r^l^K' 


Babette  Bomherling 


One  day,  when  Mrs.  Bomberling  had 
gone  out  to  secure  the  first  strawberries  for 
her  August,  she  found  he  had  escaped  on 
her  return.  Before  she  had  realized  what 
had  happened,  the  telephone  rang  and  Bom- 
berling's  quiet  voice  said: 

"Don't  worry.  I'm  at  the  ofl&ce,  work- 
ing with  Paul." 

"My,  but  you're  a  man!"  Anna  gasped 
in  reply.  But  Bomberling  had  already  hung 
up. 

Anna  kept  roaming  excitedly  about  their 
big  apartment.  At  half -hour  intervals  she 
would  call  up  the  mill  and  ask  how  Bom- 
berling was  feeling. 

Babette,  who  had  been  helping  Paul  all 
these  weeks,  answered  her  mother  patiently 
and  tenderly  each  time,  that  father  was  very 
well. 

Her  voice  sounded  so  fresh  and  young. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  sighed.  She  went  on 
the  balcony  and  looked  across  to  the  Kip- 
penbach's  windows.  Perhaps  she  might 
bring  back  the  old  relations  a  bit,  with  a 
friendly  nod. 

208 


r^  /:■'..-  -}  *.   '      •  ■  ■"  "  ""   •,■_',       ■.--;•■        v/r'r!*^--- *!■..■*    -.-''*.■    -r.:;  *"iP^t:.,  -  <r-' 


Babette  Bomberling 


But  all  the  shutters  were  closed  as  though 
the  very  windows  were  offended. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  sighed  again,  and 
when  she  went  to  the  telephone  this  time, 
she  impulsively  called  up  the  number  of  the 
Baroness  Pryczsbitsky-Ratzoska. 

The  baroness  answere  immediately — 
that  she  had  heard  of  all  their  misfortunes 
with  deep  sympathy. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  replied  that  in  Rome  an 
Italian  count  had  almost  committed  suicide 
because  Babette  wouldn't  have  him. 

The  baroness  renewed  her  expressions  of 
sympathy.  Real  Italian  counts  were  a 
much-sought  article.  Otherwise  this  was  a 
dull  period.  The  season  for  traveling  had 
commenced,  then  everybody  tried  his  own 
fortune  at  hunting.  She  only  had  little  Prill 
still  on  hand.  He  had  not  yet  succeeded  in 
finding  a  mortgage  for  his  five-story  house. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  returned  that  she  had 
meant  nothing  of  that  sort,  but  had  only 
wanted  to  say  how-do-you-do  to  her  charm- 
ing friend. 

The  Baroness  Pryczsbitzky  -  Ratzoska 
thanked  her  for  her  graciousness,  and  added 

209 


'^w-y^  -yj^fJiV^r^fr  ^ -^ •  ^s 'ts;^ T^ !▼  -.^<r»?^Ti'T-r''iP5^»^;'f^ ^ '^ •nryrs,-* 


'  ii^>Wi;',^;-M(l>f,|"».«'»!"ll,PMHPJ^!t,ll  f-W 


Babette  Bomberling 


that  she  regretted  that  she  was  now  obliged 
to  charge  for  even  the  shortest  telephone 
consultations.  She  would  permit  herself  to 
send  a  little  bill. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  hung  up  the  receiver 
with  alacrity.  There,  she  had  been  wasteful 
again,  although  she  was  to  save  at  every 
nook  and  corner. 

She  was  rather  depressed  when  the  others 
returned  home. 

She  looked  sadly  beyond  Bomberling  and 
Herman,  and  Paul  and  Babette.  There 
was  no  ray  of  hope  for  a  son^-in-law. 

And  she  wasn't  cheered  when  Aunt  Helen 
came  to  inquire  after  Bomberling  and  told 
that  Hilda  Wagner  and  Sebold  would 
marry  soon. 

She  said: 

"If  someone  might  sometimes  see  how  it 
will  some  time  be,  someone  would  sometimes 
be  less  finicky." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  replied  that  Babette 
was  incomparably  prettier  than  Hilda  and 
thoroughly  serious-minded  as  well. 

Aunt  Helen  said  kindly,  that  Mrs.  Bom- 
berling*s  words  must  not  be  taken  amiss. 

210 


.Wi^^f^^.y^P^-'^'TV  ■■?!■- "^-^'^^^^^ 


Bahette  Bomberling 


That  even  the  owl  finds  her  young 
beautiful. 

And  then  she  commenced  singing  Paul's 
praises. 

They  had  offered  him  the  directorship  of 
the  newly-to-be-formed  company. 

"Yes,"  she  declared,  "if  that  were  my 
son,  I  should  be  proud  of  him." 

Years  bring  forgetting.  Aunt  Helen  no 
longer  knew  that  she  had  renounced  offend- 
edly,  the  day  Paul  was  offered  each  mem- 
ber of  the  family  as  an  heritage.  She  had 
declared  that  she  would  not  let  anyone  pre- 
sent her  with  a  child  as  a  testamentary  obli- 
gation. Upon  whomever  God  wished  to 
bestow  offspring.  He  would  present  them 
in  the  natural  way. 

She  was  right.  Nature  will  always  be  the 
greatest  blesser. 

But  today  she  was  remembering  none  of 
these  things,  and  no  one  was  there  to  re- 
fresh her  recollections,  for  Mrs.  Bomber- 
ling  had  fallen  asleep.  The  grievous  words 
had  made  her  unconscious.  Her  head  was 
bent  sidewise.  The  carefully  built-up 
coiffure  had  slipped.     The  light  from  the 

211 


^^f'■.V^   ■;«r' 


Babette  Bomherling 


chandelier  plainly  showed  where  the  hlond 
hair  had  given  place  to  silver  streaks. 

A  few  days  later,  just  when  Mrs.  Bom- 
herling was  elated  at  having  saved  ten  pfen- 
nings aA  the  butcher's,  a  little  letter  was 
handed  to  her.  She  presumed  that  it  was 
a  message  from  young  Eappenbach.  Or 
a  secret  sign  from  someone  made  giddy  by 
Babette's  beauty. 

It  was  the  baronesse's  bill. 
One  consultation  on  the  telephone — ten 
marks.  t 

Furthermore  there  was  a  letter  in  a  sealed 
envelope.  On  this  was  written:  Important 
hints  for  the  summer  season. 

This  would  cost  ten  marks  also,  but 
might  be  returned  to  the  messenger  un- 
opened. 

Mrs.  Bomherling  hesitated.  This  sealed 
letter  fascinated  her.  Ten  marks  were  a 
lot  of  money — ^raised  the  bill  to  twenty.  But 
should  one  begin  skimping  on  Babette?  On 
that  sweet  child?  Who  was  helping  from 
mom  till  night — so  faithfully  and  dili- 
gently? 

212 


^'--^^m 


1-7.-  -  ,■,•;•■•  '--^  ■:  .-■!** :-f']^^w^.-r^'^5P'^^!S!5^^%^!!V»^^  ,..  J,J.SUf«I!5PpJBiBP>5BB' 


Babette  Bomberling 


She  hastily  paid  the  messenger  twenty 
marks  and  kept  the  important  hints. 

Before  she  had  heen  able  to  open  these 
however,  the  door  was  mdatched  and  Bom- 
berling returned,  accompanied  by  Paul  and 
Babette.  At  an  altogether  unusual  hour — 
for  it  was  only  mid-afternoon. 

Alarmed,  Mrs.  Bomberling  slipped  the 
envelope  into  her  bag. 

But  the  arrivals  looked  as  though  they 
were  concealing  some  secret  between  them. 

"Allow  me  to  introduce  Director  Paul 
Bomberling  to  you,  my  dear,"  said  August, 
ceremoniously,  and  tapped  his  way  to  the 
armchair. 

Anna  had  to  sit  down,  ^oo,  when  6he 
heard  that  the  factories  would  be  continued 
with  Paul  at  the  head.  They  would  produce 
artistic  cabinet  work  and  the  stock  of  cof- 
fins would  gradually  be  given  up. 

"I'll  skip  out,"  announced  Babette  when 
a  momentous  silence  ensued,  and  disap- 
peared swiftly. 

She  had  flowers  on  her  arm  for  the  first 
time  since  her  return.  Lilies-of-the-valley 
and  anemones. 


213 


Ulf  1'.  ■ffl'  If^'T^' ^  T^lp-?*    .■»^»T^;t'^  ''^^  tT"    .  ■»•-  ■.-^■'.'^•■■T  -^-•■'  ■■:v.tr^  *•»    J^'F  ,'>,^''?^|".'»»l.^' .'(   -  '  '^" 


Babette  Bomherling 


it 


You  see,"  said  Bomberling  to  Anna, 
now  you  will  have  at  least  a  nephew  with 
a  title." 

Mrs.  Bomberling  looked  up  at  Paul.  He 
wore  a  cutaway  and  appeared  formal  and 
changed. 

"Who  would  have  thought  it,"  she  mur- 
mured. 

Bomberling  continued: 

"That  ought  to  comfort  you,  now  that 
I  am  nothing  more  than  an  old  household 
piece.  And  Herman  will  be  able  to  con- 
tinue his  studies.  Only  Babette  will  be  in 
the  way  and  make  housekeeping  unneces- 
sarily expensive." 

He  bUnked  from  Anna  to  Paul. 

Anna  did  not  see  this.  Her  eyes  brimmed 
with  tears. 

She  found  it  disgraceful  of  August  to 
speak  in  this  way  of  Babs  before  this  new, 
smart  Paul. 

With  a  flushed  face  she  declared  she 
would  sell  the  English  salon  pieces,  the  Rus- 
sian cups  and  various  other  things.  That 
sum  would  make  a  dowry.  Babette  should 
have  a  suitor  on  every  finger  if  she  liked. 

214 


n^!i.-'      :.*ir.7.:5r;; -'■■■;  :>^';  ■^-■T^"'fiWv  "i'?^'"}^?^?-^^^ 


Babette  Bomherling 


The  recollection  of  the  "important  hints 
for  the  summer  season"  came  as  a  boon  to 
her,  too. 

But  suddenly  Babette  was  back,  kissing 
her  raptiu-ously.  Paul  looked  yet  more  for- 
mal and  Bomherling  seemed  quite  rotund 
with  happiness.  And  at  last  she  realized 
that  Babette  had  already  accepted  a  suitor, 
and  that  it  was  Paul  whom  everyone  would 
know  now  as  "director." 

She  sat  quite  inert,  stooping  slightly,  her 
thoughts  running  in  confusion. 

She  might  have  saved  those  twenty 
marks,  she  thought.  Even  the  trip  to  Rome ! 
What  would  Aunt  Helen  say?  And  her 
friend,  the  widow?  And  now  in  the  month 
of  May  Babette  was  affianced!  And  no 
need  for  embarrassment  about  the  coffins. 
No  stranger  would  take  her  away  from 
them.  Why,  already  when  a  mere  child, 
Paul  had  watched  over  her  faithfully.  And 
she  herself  might  eat  anything  again? 
Might  give  up  the  creeping  without  any 
pangs  of  conscience? 

Again  and  again  everything  tumbled  to- 

215 


l^pHp|q|Pi|9ien|P|^^p;^?;ViR>v^i^n^^!7i(qr^^ 


'-^-'Tw:^^^^ 


Babette  Bomberling 


gather  in  her  mind.  Joy  streamed  through 
her  like  hot  coflFee. 

When  Bomberling  asked  her  if  she  were 
not  delighted,  she  nodded  heavily. 

She  did  not  brace  up  until  Aunt  Helen 
plunged  into  the  room  to  find  out  whether 
what  she  had  heard  from  Uncle  Albert  were 
true. 

Then  she  wiped  her  forehead  and  scolded 
about  the  intolerably  hot  May  weather. 

Mrs.  Bomberling  said  with  dignity: 

"You  see  now  Paul  is  also  my  son.  And 
Babette  will  be  a  director's  wife." 

Aimt  Helen  continued  dabbing  her  brow 
with  her  handkerchief,  and  congratulating. 
And  then  she  said  that  she  had  just  read 
in  the  paper  that  modern  mothers  no  longer 
cared  whether  their  daughters  got  husbands 
or  not.    That  at  last  one  was  past  that — 

But  that  must  have  been  an  error,  be- 
cause there  are  no  modem  mothers.  There 
are  only  mothers. 


THE  END 


216 


^'•a 


^■y>'tgUli*^\fmi..'i:V'9>l\V!lf,fT^ 


